


a storm you're starting

by artemris, transkylo (captainandor)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Relationships, Forced Outing, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn, crack plotline taken seriously, nobody is heterosexual, this is a GBF au I can't believe I'm writing it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-19 13:56:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5969560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemris/pseuds/artemris, https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainandor/pseuds/transkylo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sin is in - the newest trend at Arkanis Academy is the G.B.F.</p><p>  <em>Kylo’s pretty sure at least half of the students in their year are queer, anyway. He says, “I’m not even that fabulous,”</em></p><p>  <em>“No, you’re a slob,” Hux shoots back.</em></p><p>  <em>“Boys, play nice,” Phasma admonishes, “Neither of you are fabulous." </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was off college last week and I re-watched GBF out of boredom and this...just....happened? I wanted to do a high school au anyway so here we are ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Also in accompaniment to this I recommend you check out my [ high school au post ](http://translkylo.tumblr.com/post/138289676813/here-are-some-more-star-wars-high-school-au-ideas)on tumblr !

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be discussion and mention of mental illness, self harm, some homophobia and homophobic language, and also the forced outing of a queer character in this fic. If you want to read on but are unsure of any specific details then please don't hesitate to message one of us about it!

“Wait, so explain this to me again,” Kylo says, holding his hands up because okay – no – the concept really doesn’t make that much sense at all – “How will being the first out kid in school make someone instantly popular?” 

It’s the period after lunch – Hux’s free, both Kylo and Phasma shirking their own responsibilities and classes – and the three of them are sitting in their usual spot at the far edge of the school grounds, a spot that Hux had long favoured even before he befriended Phasma. It’s shaded from most weather, and other students; and the perfect place to hide instead of attending class. 

Hux looks at Phasma like it’s obvious – she cocks an eyebrow at him in response, and he huffs. “It’s not _my_ idea, clearly.” He says, “I overheard somebody talking about it when I was in the library; apparently it’s all the rage these days. Every celebrity has one so of course – every teen girl requires one too. A –” he brings both hands up and makes exaggerated air quotations as he continues – “G.B.F. Otherwise known as the Gay Best Friend,” 

Phasma snorts, “Lucky me,” she says, prodding Kylo sharply between his shoulder blades, “I’ve already got two,”

“It doesn’t count if you’re a lesbian,” Kylo retorts, elbowing her back in the shin. He looks up at Hux sitting behind him on the bench, “Does it?”

“Well. I’m not an expert,” he responds, “But from what I gather, no. I think that rather defeats the purpose,” 

Kylo doesn’t have to be facing his friend to know that she’s rolling her eyes at this. He can practically feel it. “Yeah,” she says, “It would, wouldn’t it. They only want a gay best friend because they assume he’ll fit into their fabulous stereotype and talk to them about shopping and boys. If _I_ were to come out as a lesbian, would everyone suddenly be scrabbling to have me as their best friend? I think not,” 

Kylo’s pretty sure at least half of the students in their year are queer, anyway. He says, “I’m not even that fabulous,” 

“No, you’re a slob,” Hux shoots back. 

“Boys, play nice,” Phasma admonishes, “Neither of you are fabulous. I can’t even believe we’re discussing this – what, are you actually considering outing yourselves to gain popularity?”

“No,” they both reply simultaneously. 

Kylo certainly doesn’t plan on coming out any time soon – there may be a number of other (not openly – he just knows from mutual friends and a few vague rumours) queer students at The Academy but that doesn’t mean it’s lacking in prejudice. He hears plenty of offensive language daily in class and besides, he’s comfortable with keeping his personal life _personal_. Nobody else needs to know his business – least of all rumours getting to his cousin. Least of all those rumours getting to his _parents_. 

They’d be fine with it, he knows this, they love him. But it’s just not what he wants to deal with right now. At all. 

Nor does he want a bunch of heterosexuals fawning over him and turning him into their accessory.

“Thank fuck,” Phasma is saying, when Kylo turns to listen again, “I was worried I’d have to disown both of you for a moment there.” 

“Honestly,” Hux shakes his head, “I’m hurt that you’d even assume that kind of thing about me,” he places a hand on his chest; mock offence, “I have values,” 

“Speaking of which,” Phasma says, “Kylo doesn’t. How’s Grindr going for you?” 

Hux’s expression is unreadable, “Grindr,” he says.

“Yeah, it’s an app for –”

“I _know_ what Grindr is!” Hux snaps, a little too loudly. Several people glance over – his cheeks turn a similar colour to his hair. Phasma grins at him as Kylo snickers, earning himself a sharp kick in the side from one of Hux’s shiny school shoes. “Why do you have it, anyway?” 

“Why do you think,” Phasma laughs, “He’s trying to get himself a hot boyfriend,” 

Hux barks out a laugh – short, derisive. He’s been Kylo’s best friend for nearly ten years and Kylo can’t think of a time when Hux has actually laughed _properly_. He’s always so cynical and sarcastic. 

“He might want to try washing his hair first,” Hux remarks, then wrinkles up his nose “Or his clothes. Tell me, how many consecutive days have you now been wearing that same hoodie?” 

“Fuck off,”

“Eloquent as ever, I see,” 

“Just because _I_ don’t iron my socks,” Kylo grumbles. 

Phasma snickers just as Hux pushes his sleeve up to inspect his watch, “I’m going to ignore that,” he says, “In favour of telling you it’s ten-to. Let’s go,” 

“You’re not actually _going_ to class, are you,” Kylo whines, watching Hux stand up from the bench and dust off his jeans. 

“We’ve been over this nearly every day for the last ten years, Kylo,” Hux says, “Yes I am going to class. I actually do care about my grades, unlike you two,” 

Phasma slides her satchel onto one shoulder, “Actually,” she says, “I have gym next, so I’m going as well,” she stands, nudging Kylo purposefully with her foot as she steps past him. He groans. “So unless you want to sit out here all by yourself…”

“Yes. Fine. Whatever.” Kylo lets Phasma pull him to his feet and grabs his own bag. He has History with Hux now, anyway. This is one of the only classes he bothers going to, even if it’s only something to do with how his sort-of-uncle is the teacher. At any rate, he and Hux can sit at the back together and hate everybody else. 

The two of them say goodbye to Phasma and head off towards the History department. 

As always with Hux’s impeccable timing – they’re the first ones there. Mr Kenobi is sitting on the edge of his desk, shuffling papers. He glances up over the top of his glasses when they walk in, and smiles. 

“Good afternoon,” he greets.  
Hux nods courteously and silently makes his way to their desk at the back of the class. Kylo flashes their teacher a grin, “Hey uncle Obi,” he says. 

He’s met with an unimpressed stare, “Need I remind you,” he says, with the voice of someone who’s very tired of repeating themselves, “That it’s Mr Kenobi during school hours, Kylo,” 

Hux snorts as he sits down. Kylo shoots him a glare as he makes his own way over. At least Obi Wan uses his preferred name – it’s one of the reasons that he actually bothers coming to this class. The rest of his teachers (and family, in and out of school) call him by his birth name. And he _hates_ it. 

The class slowly starts to fill up as they retrieve their books and Kylo glances at the clock above the door, heaving out a sigh. A whole hour left before he can finally get home. Hux nudges Kylo in the ribs with the point of his elbow. 

“Shut up,” he hisses, “No wonder you’re failing all of your classes. You don’t go to half of them and the ones you do go to are spent staring at the clock instead of working,”

“Whatever,” Kylo mutters, “Not all of us want to go to University like you,”

Before his family had moved back here six months ago, Kylo hadn’t been in school at all. He’d been kicked out of two for ‘unruly, antisocial behaviour’ and at least three counsellors had advised his parents to give him time off. It was Leia’s fault, really, for getting a promotion. Kylo hated their hometown – there was nothing here for them, except family and an abundance of trees and people in lumberjack shirts and oversized coats. 

The only real bonus was that he’d get to see his uncle Anakin again, and Hux. 

The two of them had known each other since they were kids. Hux’s uncle had known Anakin once, before – everything. They went to school together until Leia got a promotion and his parents packed up and moved the three of them halfway across the country. Kylo going back into education had been part of the deal, much to his own annoyance. 

“I’ll be there to keep an eye on you,” Leia had said, steady voice cutting through the sound of Kylo throwing stuff across the room. 

“I don’t need you to,” he’d snapped, before telling her to get lost. He had remained in a foul mood about the whole thing up until the first day of term. Hux had met him at the school gate; ginger hair marking him out from the rest of the students, enormous greatcoat balanced artfully on his shoulders while he held a lighter to the cigarette between his lips. 

“You still dress like your dad,” Kylo told him by way of greeting. They hadn’t seen each other in person for nearly five years. 

“I see you haven’t washed your hair since I last saw you,” Hux had retorted, deadpan. Kylo had broken into a grin, and things had been relatively okay from then. Hux introduced him to Phasma, and the three of them formed an easy friendship.

*** 

“Hey – where’s the fire, boys?”

Hux runs into Kylo’s back on the stairs as he stops and turns to face Han. “Uh, hey Dad,” he greets, using a hand to gently shove Hux off him, he flashes a smile, “We’ve got a – really tough Maths assignment that we need to finish, so,” 

Han raises both eyebrows, “Huh, Maths,” he repeats, in a tone that implies…something. Kylo doesn’t dwell on it. 

The tips of Hux’s ears are turning pink, but Kylo continues, “It’s gonna be a really, y’know, tough nut to bust so we’ll see you later. T-T-Y-L,” he turns again and bounds up the staircase. Hux gives Kylo’s dad an awkward smile before scurrying after him and slamming the bedroom door shut once they’re both inside. 

“Your Father is practically convinced that we’re in some sort of romantic relationship,” he announces, watching Kylo sprawl out on his bed. He opts for the desk chair on the other side of the room, once he’s gently toed off the dirty clothes piled on the cushion, “He obviously knows. Your Mother obviously knows, too, come to think of it,” 

Kylo snorts and pushes himself up onto his elbows, “No, because then he’d really be convinced we’re dating,” he shakes his head, “And anyway it’s not – Its –” 

“It’s what?” 

“Just. He’d be disappointed. He wants me to grow up and get married and have kids like he did, you know? And I – don’t,” 

Hux knows all too well. He says as much, and Kylo’s face falls.

“Sorry, hey, you’ll move out soon for Uni right? And then your dad won’t matter,” Kylo isn’t usually so optimistic about anything, but he’s trying, and Hux smiles, just a little. 

“Mm,” he says, “Give me your phone, I want to look at this app Phasma wouldn’t stop talking about earlier,” 

Kylo rolls his eyes, but produces his mobile from his jeans pocket and holds it out. Hux plucks it from his fingers and enters the password, going right to the new app. “Have you had any success yet,” he asks, idly scrolling through. 

“Nope. Most of the guys are either really old and creepy or too far away. Pretty sure I found Poe Dameron on there though,” 

“Does that surprise you,” Hux asks, not looking up. 

Kylo hums, dropping back down onto the mattress, “I didn’t think he’d need it, have you seen the way Finn looks at him,” 

“I don’t make a point of concerning myself with other people’s business,” Hux replies, dismissively, then, “But since you brought it up. Yes. Which brings me to my next question; why do _you_ want a boyfriend?" In fact, Hux was pretty sure Kylo hated almost everybody he knew – he didn’t even let his parents hug him. 

“I just think it’d be cool,” Kylo lifts one of his hands by way of a shrug, “To know how many other gay guys there are around here. Y’know, that aren’t you. No offence,” 

“Charming,” Hux says, feeling offended anyway, and carefully filing this information somewhere at the back of his mind. 

Kylo gives him a funny look, “What, and you don’t want to know how many local hot gay guys there are just waiting to talk to us?” 

“I have far more important things on my agenda,”


	2. Chapter 2

Kylo doesn’t have much luck on Grindr that night. He peers over Hux’s shoulder as his friend scrolls through, alternating between grimacing (the pictures, as he kept saying, went from mildly offensive to just downright _inappropriate_ ) and sniggering. “So,” he says, holding the phone back out towards its owner, “Unless you’re into forty-year-old reprobates with chest hair…?” he arches his brow. 

“Ew. No, thank you,” Kylo shudders as he accepts the phone back. 

When Phasma meets them in school the next morning and asks how their evening went, Kylo groans and it’s all Hux can do not to laugh. Kylo notices him anyway and scowls. “It’s not funny!” he snaps, “I’m disgusted, Phas. You haven’t seen what my eyes have seen,” 

“It was pretty traumatising,” Hux agrees, “Which is precisely why, as I have _told_ you, it’s a bad idea.” 

“Just wait till your parents find it on your phone,” she says, “Nothing says ‘I’m queer as hell’ like a gay hookup app,” 

Kylo elbows Phasma, and then Hux, on his other side. “You’re the worst,” he tells them, “Why am I even friends with you,”

“Because nobody else puts up with your bullshit,” 

The three of them have Chemistry first, which sucks partly because the teacher is Kylo’s uncle – the less cool of the ridiculous number of uncles and sort-of-by-extension uncles that he has – and partly because his grades in this class are awful. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy science; he loves it, it’s more that he prefers blowing things up than bothering to write anything down or learn the facts. 

The fire thing? Probably inherited. He realised this on day one when Luke – Mr Skywalker, whatever – accidentally set his bunsen burner too close to a stack of textbooks and the whole school had to be evacuated. Then there was the incident with Uncle Anakin that Leia said they’re not allowed to talk about.

It’s a small comfort that they’re allowed to sit as a group together. Even if Hux is constantly pissed off that Kylo manages to sabotage every one of their experiments. 

Luke says good morning and starts writing up the morning’s lesson plan on the board. Hux, to Kylo’s left, is neatly taking notes. Phasma, to his right, is doing something on her phone. Kylo huffs and lets his head fall forward onto the desk with a soft _thud_. He can already tell it’s going to be a long day. 

When he lifts his head again, Luke is still writing on the board and everyone else seems to be doing something in their workbooks. Kylo sits up a little in his chair, “Luke,” he says.

His uncle pauses and looks over his shoulder. 

“Are we doing any experiments today,” he asks, eyeing up the Bunsen burner at the edge of his desk. 

Luke sighs. It seems to be a trend with all of Kylo’s teachers. “If you had actually been listening, Ben –”

“Kylo,” 

“– then you would have heard me saying that we’re starting a new topic this morning,” he points, with his pen, to the heading at the top of the board; standing out against the white background in Luke’s neat script. ‘Dynamic Equilibrium’. It sounds tedious. 

“…So no experiments,”

“No.” 

Hux is sniggering. Kylo kicks him under the desk. 

He tries to pay attention throughout the lesson, but by half past nine the incessant ticking of the clock, coupled with the sound of pencil-on-paper and squeaky-pen-on-board is really getting to him. He doesn’t even think about it, really. The Bunsen burner is _right there_. Quietly, he reaches across to flip the gas switch on, connects it up, shuffles his workbook closer, flicks his lighter on, and waits. 

It doesn’t take long before Phasma sniffs. “Can I smell burning –” the shrill sound of the fire alarm cuts her off, and an hour and two fire engines later Kylo finds himself sitting across the desk from his – rather stern and exhausted looking – mother. 

She sweeps a hand through her hair, and sighs for the third or fourth time. Kylo stopped counting at two.

“Ben,” she starts. 

He cuts in, “Kylo,” 

She sighs for the fourth - or maybe fifth, now - time. “ _Kylo_ ,” he hates the way she says it, like it’s a joke, like it’s a stupid nickname or – something. “Would you like to tell me what happened back in Luke’s class?” 

He gives an exaggerated shrug, looking intently down at the grainy wood of her desk. Principal Organa, a shiny golden plaque says at the front. He wonders why its okay for her to keep her maiden name when he's not allowed to change his. 

“I was bored,” he replies. 

She shifts in her chair and in his peripheral vision he sees her lean her forehead, briefly, against her hands. “I know coming back to school has been hard for you,” she begins, slowly, “But it’s important. Don’t you want to pass your final year and move on to college or university? You’ve got so much going for you here. The only person standing in your way is yourself,” 

He’s not sure whether he wants to laugh, cry, or storm out of the room in a huff. He opts for the latter – the chair scrapes noisily against the linoleum floor as he stands, bracing both hands on her desk, “Coming here has been hard for me?” he repeats, “You’ve no fucking idea.” 

A few sheets of paper flutter to the ground in an admirably dramatic fashion when he slams the door shut on his way out. Hux is waiting for him by the water fountain, Kylo’s bag in one hand, his own slung smartly over his shoulder. 

“How’d it go?” he wonders, “Or should I not ask?”

Kylo takes his bag and grunts in reply. Hux raises both eyebrows, “I see,” he says, “Well, since you’ve successfully managed to sabotage everyone’s day, Phasma says we can go to her house. She’ll meet us there,” 

“Wait,” Kylo says, stopping, “What?” 

“School’s closed, idiot,” Hux says over his shoulder, the insult almost fond, “You set a classroom on fire.” 

“Oh,” Kylo replies, hurrying to catch up with his friend, “Right. Okay. Yes,”

The lifts are off due to the fire hazard, so they take the stairs. They’re halfway down, Hux listening to Kylo prattling on about his favourite band's latest album artwork when Hux stops, abruptly, and catches Kylo by the forearm. “Wha –”

“ _Shh!_ ” Hux hisses. He looks like he’s listening for something. Kylo leans over the bannister, and peers down between the flights of stairs. They’re only two up, but he can see a couple of shadows making their way down on the flight below. 

“So, the trends this season,” one of them is saying. Kylo recognises the voice. 

“Shoot,” 

“Totally ironic cashmere shrugs,”

“Ugh, so last season,”

“Distressed leggings?” 

“I practically invented them,”

“Um….Oh! The G.B.F,” a pause, “It…it stands for –”

“I _know_ what it stands for.” A pause, lengthy, “Well, I can’t help it if this school is devoid of the gay. I mean if there were some they’d obvi worship me, right?”

Kylo glances at Hux who looks faintly amused. He grins at Kylo and mouths, “Told you,” 

Now two flights below, the first voice, “Totally. They’d totally worship you. Look at you, you’re beautiful!”

The door at the foot of the stairs opens, closes, and echoes up the stairwell. Kylo straightens up. 

“Well,” he says. 

“My sentiment exactly,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> talk star wars to me @moodykyloren


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so much of this is just indebted to erin 
> 
> the skyguy 2 my ahsoka

It’s late before Kylo gets home. Leia and Han are out – staff meeting at the school, though he doesn’t know why Han even bothers going to these things because he’s only a substitute and is hardly ever there, anyway. They’ve left his dinner in a microwaveable dish on the counter, cooking instructions written on a scrap of paper taped to the lid. He ignores it in favour of making hot chocolate, which he takes up to his room. 

_Thank fuck it's Thursday_ , he thinks, setting the mug on the bedside table and dropping down onto the mattress. The liquid spills over the rim a little, staining whatever homework is probably lying beneath. He’ll look later. He’s too busy basking in the fact that there’s just _one more day_ until the weekend. His free period on a Friday is last, too, which means he’s finished by three and home early to go and stay at Anakin’s house. 

Leia isn’t happy with it, of course; wasn’t happy with Anakin even making contact with his nephew at all when they moved back into the neighbourhood. But realistically, as Kylo had pointed out on more than one occasion, he couldn’t be made to spend weekends with Luke if he wasn’t able to spend weekends with Anakin. And anyway, Obi Wan was always there, as a good influence, or the opposite of whatever it was that Leia didn’t like about her relative. 

Kylo takes a sip of his hot chocolate and winces when it scalds his mouth. He pulls his phone out from his jeans pocket and texts Hux.

 

To: Ginger  
_What are you doing rn?_

From: Ginger  
_Homework._

To: Ginger  
_You’re so boring_

 

His phone rings a moment later. Grinning, he answers. “Yes?” 

“Phasma’s right.” Hux says, without so much as a _hello_ , “You do need a boyfriend, maybe then you’ll stop pestering me when I’m busy,” 

“Hilarious,” Kylo rolls his eyes, then, “Wait, what has Phasma said?” 

“Nothing,” Hux responds, “What do you want?” 

Kylo can hear the sound of a pencil scraping against paper, faintly, on the other end of the call. “What homework are you doing?” 

“History.”

“You’re actually writing the essay?” Kylo snorts, glancing at his own pile of carelessly discarded history notes on his desk. He hasn’t looked at them in weeks. The essay is due Monday; he’ll say something to Obi about it at the weekend. 

Unless – 

“Yes I am. And no, I won’t write yours for you,” 

Kylo huffs. 

“Dick,” 

“Love you too,” Hux responds dryly, “Goodnight, Kylo.”

*** 

Kylo has always hated P.E.

He hates sports. He hates teamwork. He especially hates wearing shorts. The only time he’d ever really enjoyed himself in P.E at school was when they had a week of fencing lessons, and even then it was more the delight of being able to stab at people (namely, Hux) that did it for him. Not even having his uncle as the coach made it any better. 

Anakin blows into the whistle that’s hanging around his neck, “Team up, guys,” 

Kylo sighs, wondering if and when the ground will swallow him up. He and Hux get picked last, as always, and resort to standing at the very back of the group formation as Anakin goes over the rules. It’s dodgeball, Kylo thinks, how hard can that be? 

He gets them to practise throwing as a warm up exercise, and Kylo squints with one eye, aiming for Finn’s head on the opposite side of the hall. 

“Hey, Kylo,” Anakin says, just as Kylo’s about to throw, “Gimme that a sec,” 

He reaches in and plucks it from his nephew’s grasp before Kylo can respond, anyway. “If you wanna hit someone,” he says, “Aim for a target a little closer. There’s no way you can get someone if they’re on the other side of the gym, it’ll either miss, or they’ll catch it,” 

Anakin scans the room, and straightens up when he sees Hux just a few metres away. “There,” he tells Kylo, “Watch this,”

“Hux,” he calls, as the ball is already leaving his hand. His throwing arm, Kylo notes, briefly, is the metal one. It’s already too late to give his friend any prior warning, because by the time the thought has fully registered in his head, there’s the sound of leather smacking against skin and a string of expletives loud enough to render the rest of the hall silent. 

Hux drops, rather spectacularly, onto the floor. Kylo stares at him for a moment, and then looks over at his uncle.

“So uh. Rule number one,” Anakin says, “Don’t aim for the head,” 

Hux lets out a pathetic whimpering noise, and hoists himself up into a sitting position. 

“Um – are you alright?” Kylo wonders, aware that the whole class is watching them. Hux’s face has very nearly turned a similar colour to his hair, and the look he gives Kylo is acidic. 

Dopheld cautiously nudges Kylo in the arm. “…You should probably take him to the nurse,” 

Kylo blinks. “Right – yes, okay. Good idea.”

Hux complains the whole way there, but otherwise lets Kylo tug him along by the sleeve to the first aid room where the nurse tuts at him, casts one look at Kylo and asks if it was another dodgeball incident. Kylo nods and wonders how many other occurrences of this kind have happened at the Academy, through the years. 

Hux’s nose isn’t broken, but there’s a lot of blood and he’ll probably have at least one black eye. 

The nurse tells him to go to the office and call his parents; he can go home. When she leaves, the two friends look at each other. “Can I come to yours?” Hux asks, quietly, “My parents won’t really appreciate –”

“Of course,” Kylo says, “Come on, we can go now. I’m at Anakin’s later but you can come too. If you want,” 

Hux manages a wry smile, though it looks like it hurts him to do it. “No, thank you,” he says, “I can go home once I get cleaned up,” 

Once changed out of their gym clothes, they decide to walk instead of taking the bus to avoid awkward questions. Hux’s face is dappled blue and purple with fresh bruising, dried blood still under his nose from where he hadn’t managed to clean it properly in the grubby school bathroom mirror. 

It’s a decent walk, Kylo notes, when they finally get outside and into the cool spring air. Decent in a slightly mundane way, anyway – they pass countless fields full of cows and at least two farms before they even reach his street, which is basically a long, winding road with just ten houses scattered across the entire 3-mile stretch. 

Han is out in the garden digging a new flowerbed when they get there. He wipes a mucky hand across his forehead and gives them a wave when they close the gate. “Hey,” he says, raising an eyebrow and leaning on the handle of his shovel, “Aren’t you two supposed to be in class?” His eyes narrow, ever so slightly, when he looks at his son, “You didn’t set anything on fire today, did you?” 

“ _No,_ ” Kylo says, “Actually,”

Han looks at Hux; does a double take, “Jesus, kid,” he says, “What happened to you?” 

“Anakin,” Kylo explains, and then reaches back to catch Hux’s jacket sleeve and pull him towards the door, “Don’t tell Leia,”

“My lips are sealed,” Han calls after them.

“Right,” Kylo says, once they’re inside. He starts up the stairs, beckoning for Hux to follow him, “Bathroom. I’ll go get the concealer,” 

Hux watches him for a moment with a look that could pass for being warm. It’s not the first time they’ve had to do this; though for a different reasons. Kylo keeps a bag stashed somewhere under his bed – his _Hux emergency kit_ , as he always calls it. For when – well. For when there’s an emergency that requires him to need blood cleaned off and bruises covered up. 

He washes his hands in the bathroom sink, winces when the hot water stings his hands, and waits until Kylo returns several moments later, bag tucked under his arm. 

“Here,” he says. 

Hux takes it, gingerly sets it down on the countertop, and digs out the bag of cotton wool. He runs it under the hot tap and then looks up at himself in the mirror. The lighting doesn’t do him any favours. He looks awful, there’s no other word for it. 

“We’re never going to be able to cover this up,” he says, glancing back at Kylo in the reflection, “My Father will assume I’ve been in a fight, and then –”

“Yes we will,” Kylo plucks the cotton wool from Hux’s hand and spins him around, “He’s not gonna do anything. Okay?” he hesitates, “Is it alright if I –?” 

Hux nods. 

Kylo motions for Hux to tilt his chin up a little, and leans in, gently using the warm cotton wool to wipe away the dried remnants of his nosebleed. 

“This is ridiculous,” Hux mutters, willing himself to just – stop, for once. Kylo raises an eyebrow and pauses for a second. “The situation,” Hux clarifies, “Your uncle, the ex-convict gym teacher, giving me a black eye and a bloody nose.” 

Kylo’s lip quirks into a half smile. He steps away and goes over to the bag, rooting around in it until he finds what he’s looking for. “I know,” he says, pulling out the tube of concealer and the pressed powder compact, “But honestly; what part of our lives isn’t fucking ridiculous anyway,”

*** 

By the time Leia comes home, Hux looks like he usually does; hair styled back into its usual neatness and no sign of any facial injury at all. The two of them are on the sofa in the living room, Kylo sprawled across the sofa with his phone, scrolling through what Phasma has taken to referring to as the ‘ _slutty gay hookup app’_. Kylo hates the term, but so far he hasn’t actively stopped her from saying it.

“This guy is like – fifty, or something,” Kylo says, grimacing, “And he keeps asking me for nudes,” 

“Is he rich,” Hux asks. 

“Who’s rich?” Leia pokes her head around the door, curious, “Hey, Hux.” She gives him an awkward wave, a stack of textbooks balanced precariously on her forearms. 

“Hello, Ms Organa,” 

“Unfortunately,” Kylo says, locking his phone and tossing it on the table, “Not me,” 

She’s laughing when Han ambles in through the kitchen. Leia doesn’t even need to look at him to say, “Muddy boots. Off,” 

He grumbles, but takes them off anyway and kicks them into the hall. 

“How was your day?” he asks, reaching to take the heavy textbooks from her but stepping away and raising his hands in apology when she swats at him for it. Leia gives him a look as she walks over to set them down on the table. 

“Hectic,” she says. “Always hectic. Speaking of which, Ben,” she says, looking over her shoulder, “I need to have a word with you later about skipping class this afternoon,” 

Kylo groans. 

Leia turns back to her husband, “Additionally, I had a _delightful_ meeting with Jessika. Delightful being the operative word, there,” 

“Again?” Han asks, amused. 

“Third time this week,” Leia nods, “She’s determined about setting up this GSA – I’ve told her, every time, you can’t have a Gay Straight Alliance without at least one actual gay member. One of her friends only seems to be in it for this new GBF trend,” she shakes her head, running one hand back through her hair to push it away from her face, “But anyway – Ben, if I’m dropping you off at your uncle’s house at half six you’ll be needing your dinner in the next twenty minutes or so. Hux, you’re more than welcome to join us,” 

He glances at Kylo. “No, thank you,” he says, quickly. 

“Are you sure?” 

Hux stands up and nods, “My parents will be expecting me home,” 

Kylo rolls onto his feet, as well, “I’ll walk you to the door,” he says, ushering Hux out into the hall and ignoring the look Han throws at them both. He dithers as Hux pulls on his shoes and coat, retrieves his bag, and then waits. Kylo leans across and opens the door. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, and then elaborates when Hux looks at him blankly, “About going home. I mean. You could stay with me this weekend, if you prefer,” 

“I can’t,” he replies, “But thank you.”

“Okay,” Kylo says, “Well. I’ll see you on Monday,” 

“Monday,” Hux nods. 

Kylo watches him from the door until he disappears around the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anakin's gym class is the real #order 66 
> 
> featuring surprise mitaka cameo 
> 
> also as u may have noticed i updated the tags to mental health issues so be aware of that for future chapters!


	4. Chapter 4

It's not unusual for Phasma to hang out in the bathrooms instead of going to class - especially on days where Kylo isn't there to bunk off with. Sometimes Kylo doesn't bother showing up to school at all and Hux _never_ misses a lesson. Even when he's sick (which isn't often), he still somehow manages to drag himself out of bed, put on his uniform, and go. Today, however, the nurse sent him home following an injury and Kylo took it as an opportunity to skip the rest of the morning. 

What _ever_ , she thinks, pulling a cigarette out of the box and searching for her lighter. Maybe the fire alarm will go off and they'll all get sent home again. Though not likely - the only reason the fire alarm ever gets set off in the Academy - besides burnt toast - is Kylo, and he's not here. 

 

She finds the lighter at the bottom of her bag. It's been designed to look like a stormtrooper, Kylo had given it to her for her eighteenth. 

"Did you know that stormtroopers - the real ones, not star wars - actually played an important role in Hitler's rise to power," Hux had started saying, literally moments after she'd opened it, not even giving her time to say thanks. The memory makes her laugh as she balances the cigarette between her lips and leans over to light it. 

To this day she still doesn't know where he'd acquired it - they lived in a tiny village, there was pretty much an unofficial ban on Kylo buying anything relating to fire, yet he still managed, somehow. 

She texts Kylo once she's put the lighter back in her pocket. 

To: Billy Joel  
_Did you not have a counselling appointment this afternoon?_

She takes a drag from the cigarette and exhales, directing the smoke upwards, praying for it to trigger the fire alarm. She'd sacrifice her eyeliner to be sent home around now. It doesn't work. 

Kylo replies.

From: Billy Joel  
_Oh shit_

From: Billy Joel  
_I had detention too. Oops_

She rolls her eyes. The day Kylo actually goes to detention or to counselling is the same day that pigs will grow wings and fly, she's sure of it. She's about to text him back and tell him so when she hears the external bathroom door swing open accompanied by the voices of several people talking at once. She hurriedly disposes of the cigarette into the toilet and kicks the stall door over.

Whoever it is doesn't seem to notice, they're too preoccupied with their conversation. 

"...I've got Robert Pattinson's airbrushed torso," one of them is saying, when the door clicks shut, "That's what they like, right?" 

"Totally."

"And I've got Zac Efron," 

"Are you sure this is going to work?" the first voice says again, concern evident in the tone. Phasma recognises it as Rey - Kylo's cousin - who sits at her table in Philosophy. She frowns, interest piqued, and leans closer to the stall door, listening. 

"Of course," the second one speaks again, Phasma can't quite place it, "The gays love this sort of thing."

Phasma has to stop herself from snorting out loud. The thought of Kylo, or - God forbid - _Hux_ having a thing for Robert Pattinson or Zac Efron is almost too much to deal with. The girls outside the stall fall silent for a couple of moments, though she can hear them all typing on their phones. 

"Isn't this...you know," Rey breaks the silence again, sounding hesitant, "Wrong? I mean, we might be forcefully outing people," 

"Don't think about it that way. Think of it more as us helping some struggling teens come to terms with themselves, right?" 

"...Okay," 

"So it's settled then," whoever's speaking sounds determined, "Let's go hunt down some Gays," 

The realisation of what's going on suddenly dawns on Phasma, and she fumbles with her phone, nearly dropping it town the toiled in her haste. " _Shit_ ," she says, trying to open her text conversation with Kylo. 

The girls fall silent. "What was that?" one of them asks. 

Phasma stills. "Just, uh," she looks over at the toilet, "Stating the obvious in here, you know," 

"Gross. Lets go," 

She doesn't breathe out until the door is closed behind them again. She sends Kylo a hurried text full of exclamation marks and _answer me right now, asshole_. She waits, but no response. She tries calling him but it goes straight to answerphone. Trying to contaxt Hux is pretty much the same. 

"Shit," she says again. 

At least she has the weekend to figure something out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering why Kylo is 'Billy Joel' on Phasma's phone I present to you; [ this ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eFTLKWw542g)
> 
>  


	5. Chapter 5

Kylo doesn’t think about much else over the weekend save for how worried he is about Hux. His Dad is – to put it lightly – awful. Terrible. The worst. Kylo’s threatened on more than one occasion to go over and physically fight the man himself. Failing that, he’d be happy if Hux could just move in with them until they graduate. Things aren’t as bad as they have been in the past, but it doesn’t stop Kylo from wanting to panic anyway – especially when something happens that might set Brendol Hux off. 

Whether he thinks his son has been in a fight or whether he finds out the truth and takes it to mean his son is failing a class (everyone fails P.E, Kylo wants to tell Hux’s dad, as if that would even make a difference, really), Hux is in deep shit. 

Kylo wishes he was still out of education. Things were – marginally – better when he could just wallow in his pyjamas all day every day, cocooned in his duvet and hidden away from the world. 

A terrible voice in the back of his head, wishes he hadn’t moved back to his hometown because the _thing_ with Hux’s dad causes him so much stress and anger he can barely deal with. The rational part of him says that this is selfishness talking, because fuck, Hux has to live with this, 24/7. The irrational part overrides it by prioritising himself. 

It’s a mess. He wants to go back to bed. 

He does manage to, sort of, spend the weekend doing so. Anakin lets him bring the duvet downstairs and he burrows into it on the sofa while watching TV. Obi Wan ends up hi-jacking the remote and watching world war 2 documentaries and correcting the presenters every time they get something wrong, which seems to be a lot. 

Kylo stays until Monday morning and gets a lift to school with his uncles, which means that, for once, he’s ridiculously early. He and Phasma aren’t usually in until well after nine. He doesn’t think he’s ever arrived at school before Hux, whose time keeping is always disturbingly perfect. He sends Hux a text and then goes to wait for him in the library.

There are three messages waiting for him on grindr. The first one seems nice until Kylo realises that the guy is in his forties – the second one is a horrifying wall of text followed by an equally horrifying picture. Kylo closes the app with a shudder, and wonders if he’s going to be single for the rest of his life. 

He’s in the middle of figuring out just how many cats he should adopt when the chair next to him is pulled away from the table and a familiar greatcoat-wearing redhead sinks down into it. 

“Good morning,” 

“It’s like, a seventy degrees outside,” Kylo says, eyeing him and then casting a look toward the window. “How are you not absolutely dying in that?” 

“I am,” Hux says, shrugging it off and suddenly appearing three times smaller, “But I don’t want my skin to burn to a crisp first thing on a Monday morning,” 

Kylo supposes he has a point. It takes Hux approximately five minute to turn into the personification of a tomato in the sun. In the height of summer, he has to apply a stupid amount of sunscreen at regular intervals otherwise his skin literally starts peeling off. Kylo can only vaguely remember going to the beach with him as a kid, but Phasma was all too happy to show Kylo pictures of them the summer before. Hux looked like an angry carrot next to Phasma in her bikini. 

“Point taken,” Kylo says, “You should just get a parasol,”

Hux snorts. “No chance. How was your weekend?” he asks. 

“You’d look cute with one,” Kylo teases, “Very fashionable. It was boring as fuck; I think I spent half of it sleeping. What about you?”

“Shit,” Hux replies with a _but what can you do_ shrug. He ignores the comment about the parasol. Kylo notices the bruising has mostly gone, though his face still has a blueish tinge in some places. 

“Should I ask?” 

“Nah,” Hux says, he drums his fingers on the table without really thinking about it, then his hands retreat inside the sleeves of his long sleeved shirt. He fiddles with the hem, “Sorry,” he says. 

Kylo raises an eyebrow, “What for?” 

“I don’t know,” Hux replies, “For being – annoying? Or, a lot to deal with, at any rate,” 

Kylo snorts loudly. The librarian glares at him from across the room. 

“What?” Hux says, “What’s funny?” 

“You,” Kylo says, grinning, unable to help himself, “Apologising to _me_. Me, unchallenged master of being annoying and difficult to deal with.”

Hux scrutinises him for a moment. “Yes, well,” he says, “You have an excuse, I suppose,” 

“I’m still maintaining that you’re talking bullshit,” Kylo replies, “But even if you were annoying, you know, so do you,” 

“You’re both annoying,” comes a voice from behind them. They turn to see Phasma, uncharacteristically early, bag slung over her shoulder and a giant pair of sunglasses framing her face. She grins. 

“Do my eyes deceive me?” Hux says, looking her up and down, “Are you actually early for once?” 

She shoves the sunglasses back into her hair and rounds the table, dropping into one of the plastic seats across from them and wincing when the backs of her thighs meet the cold surface. She’ll have to peel herself out of it when she stands back up. 

“Shut up,” she says, “Just because you have military timekeeping skills doesn’t mean you can bitch to me about lateness,” 

“I was here before him,” Kylo supplies, “Just saying,” 

“I was hoping you’d be,” Phasma says, “’Cause I wanted to talk to you, and you wouldn’t answer your phone all damn weekend,” 

Kylo gives her a vaguely apologetic hand wave, “I was sleeping and watching TV,” he says, by way of excuse. “What’s the deal anyway,” 

“The thing I text you about on Friday,” she says, “I’m worried about it,”

“What thing?” Hux asks, looking between them. 

Kylo forgot to tell him; he had been too busy worrying. He looks at Phasma who rolls her eyes.

“It’s not that bad,” she says. Kylo shoots her a look and she backtracks, “Okay. It could be bad, in certain circumstances, but basically –” the bell cuts her off and she groans. “I’ll tell you at lunch. I have gym first,” she leans over and ruffles Kylo’s hair, then gives Hux a fist-bump, “See you losers later!” she grabs her back and disappears with a flourish. 

Hux starts to stand up. Kylo remains where he is until a pointy shoe collides with his shin. 

“Hey!”

“We have double history, asshat. You’re coming, and you’re telling me about the thing,” 

Kylo groans, but stands anyway, and follows Hux out into the corridor. It’s busy, and noisy, and Kylo has to lean close so that Hux will hear him. “A couple of people in our year are planning on – outing people? I guess,” 

Hux stops dead in the corridor. “Wha –” he’s cut off when someone walks straight into the back of him and starts complaining. He hoists his bag further up onto his shoulder and scurries along to catch up, “ _What_? Who?” 

“Dunno,” he shrugs, “She didn’t say. I didn’t ask,” 

“You didn’t ask? Why the hell not?” Hux hisses. 

Kylo blinks at him as they round the corner, “I was too busy worrying about you,”

“You – what?” Hux looks at him, looks away quickly, then looks back, “Oh. Right. Okay – yeah,” he stares for another moment longer, before ducking his head away. A moment later, they’re in the classroom and the conversation comes to an end. 

Kylo’s phone starts vibrating halfway through Obi Wan’s presentation about Hitler’s rise to power. He pulls it from his jeans pocket and squints at it under the desk. Phasma’s calling him. He frowns. Shouldn’t she be in class, too? 

Hux nudges him. Kylo’s just about to tell him to fuck off when Obi Wan clears his throat loudly. 

Kylo looks up. 

“Uh, what?” 

Obi Wan looks disappointed. It’s his default facial expression. “Kylo,” he says, “You know the rule about phones in class time,” 

“But –”

“You’ll get it back at the end of the day,” he holds his hand out across Kylo’s desk, “Come on,” 

He heaves a sigh and passes the phone to his uncle who nods and then goes over to put it safely in his drawer. “If I catch anybody else on their mobile during class, remember that it will be confiscated. Two strikes in one week and it's detention, am I clear?” 

There’s a collective nod. Kylo slumps a little lower in his seat as Obi Wan turns back to the interactive whiteboard and resumes the presentation. He hopes Phasma’s call wasn’t important. 

As his awful luck would have it, it probably was. Barely ten minutes later, the door bursts open and three girls from his year pile in, mobile phones held in front of them like dowsing rods. Kylo nearly does a double take. The one at the front – Jessika – is the one Leia is constantly exasperated with. She wants to start a GSA, if he recalls correctly. He and Hux overheard her in the stairwell the day of the fire alarm. Behind her, a girl he only vaguely recognises as being one of her friends, and, the most surprising, his cousin; Rey.

“Can I help you?” Obi Wan peers over the top of his glasses at them. 

He’s ignored. “Where is it?” Jessika says, determination in her voice as she waves the phone around the room. “The signal is getting stronger!”

“Ladies,” Obi Wan says, crossing his arms, “Can I ask what you’re doing in my classroom?” 

“The secret gay is here!” the one Kylo doesn’t know the name of exclaims, “Right in this room.” 

Kylo feels like the rug has been pulled out from under his feet. He sinks down a little further in his seat, wondering if the ground will swallow him whole if he slides onto the floor completely. Shit. This was what Phasma would have been calling him about. The tracker on the stupid app – he can’t switch it off. His phone is in Obi’s desk. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. 

Jessika is marching towards the aforementioned desk already, shoving past Obi Wan unceremoniously as she does so. “It’s here! In this desk!” she looks up, and then gives Obi Wan a once over with a wrinkle of her nose, “Mr Kenobi,” she says, disbelieving, “Why is the secret gay in your desk?”

“What?” 

“Also why are you on grindr? You already have a boyfriend! And, no offence, but these hairless abs are definitely not yours, this is false advertising. I’m disappointed,”

“Miss Pava, what are you talking about?” 

She pulls open the drawer and grabs something. Kylo’s stomach lurches. 

“This!” she says, “This is the phone!” she turns it over in her hand and frowns, “Mr Kenobi, you like My Chemical Romance?” 

Obi Wan looks at her and then glances past to Kylo. He frowns. “…No,” he says, slowly, looking down at the mobile clutched in Jessika’s fingers, “That’s Mr Solo’s phone,”

Fuck. 

The three of them turn like vultures spotting a carcass. Their eyes are wide. Rey, at least, has the sense to look apologetic. “Kylo,” Jessika says, slowly, “Is this your phone?”

“Uh. Yes?” 

“…You’re the secret gay?” another one asks with a look of disbelief, “But…you’re not even that fabulous,”

He sees no way out of this, really. He feels Hux’s leg pressing against his under the table but ignores it as he, slowly, sits up to his full height. At least he has that advantage, if anybody tries to beat him up. Most 18 year old schoolkids aren’t pushing 6 foot yet. 

“Yeah, I guess I am,” he pauses, then cringes, “Gay I mean. Not fabulous,”


	6. Chapter 6

Kylo’s out of the class and halfway down the corridor before the bell signalling the end of class has even stopped ringing. He ignores Hux calling for him to wait and carries on to the staircase, taking them two at a time as he heads down, practically sprinting in his haste to reach the student support base. He shoves the door open and slams his hands down on the desk, startling the receptionist from where she sits behind her computer. 

“I need to make a counselling appointment with Mr Kenobi,” he says. 

“He’s not available until eleven –”

“I know, I just came from his class,” Kylo interrupts, “Just. Book me in, okay?” 

She eyes him for a moment before turning to her keyboard and typing something in, “You’ve missed your last two appointments,” 

Kylo stares at her. 

“…Right, anyway, he’ll be expecting you to actually attend this one,” she informs him. 

He points to the row of chairs lined up against the wall just behind him, “I’ll wait here then,” 

“You have a free period?”

“Yes,” he lies, crossing his arms. 

She types something else in and then sighs, “Fine, take a seat. You have a half hour session with him at eleven o’clock and I’ll let your teacher for that period know – who do you have?”

“Mr Skywalker,” he says, “Uh. Luke. Chemistry,” Kylo sinks down into the seat and goes to pull out his phone – before remembering that it’s still in Obi Wan’s possession. “Shit,” he mutters to himself, running a hand across his face and back through his hair. 

Hux will be in Maths now, Phasma either in art or bunking off – depending on what the lesson involves. He’s screwed. He’s so, so screwed. 

The hour passes by in torturous near silence, the only sounds being the tapping of computer keys and the second hand on the wall clock ticking by. He practically falls off the chair in his rush to stand up when the door opens and a flustered looking Obi Wan steps in, satchel sling over one shoulder and his glasses perched on top of his head. 

“Kylo,” he says, looking surprised, “What’re you doing here?”

“I have an appointment,” he says, edging towards the interview room in the corner. It’s the best one, with the window looking out into the courtyard, and the comfiest chairs, “Like, right now so…I’ll go wait,” 

He turns and makes a beeline for the room before Obi Wan can even reply, letting the door click shut behind him and letting out a breath as he drops down into the soft fabric of the armchair. Usually he hates counselling – he’d rather stab himself in the eye, on any other occasion – but today he wants to hide from the world and this is his best option. 

Obi Wan appears a few minutes later with a clipboard and Kylo’s guidance file tucked under one arm. He closes the door behind him and sits down, sliding his glasses down his forehead to rest on the bridge of his nose. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking over. 

Kylo chews on the hem of his sleeve. “I feel kind of shit, actually,” he says, “You know, like, I’d really love to set something on fire,” 

Obi Wan taps his pen against the clipboard and frowns, “Please don’t,” he says, “Do you need me to call your Mother in?” 

“No!” Kylo says, abruptly, and then relaxes his posture, “No,” he repeats, “That wouldn’t be good. Don’t do that, I haven’t – she doesn’t know yet.” 

“You know she wouldn’t judge you,” Obi Wan says, and Kylo laughs, because he knows this. The majority of his family aren’t straight, anyway, but he’s not ready, and now he’s lost all agency in the matter because people _know_ , and it’s none of their business to. 

Obi Wan seems to pick up on this, anyway, and he sits up a little, opening Kylo’s folder and pulling some sheets of paper from it, “If you don’t want to talk about that,” he says, clicking his pen and scribbling something down, “We can catch up on what I wanted to cover in the appointments you missed. I know I’ve touched on a bit of it at home –” Kylo groans, “– but it’ll take up some time, and it really needs to be on the records, so if you don’t want to go to class just now…?”

Kylo loves Obi Wan, really, at the best of times. 

He does sigh, though, because he hates being assessed. “Let me see,” he says, “You’re going to ask if I want to hurt myself, or anybody else, or if I’m going to do something impulsive, or dramatic, or attention seeking,” 

“Kylo,” 

“The answer to all of the above is probably yes,” he shrugs, “Go figure,”

He watches Obi Wan writing something else down and thinks that, if they hospitalise him again, at least he won’t have to go to school.

“What happened back there in class?” Obi asks, and Kylo wants to hide his face because the whole thing is overwhelming in its embarrassment.

“You were there,” he says, kicking his shoe against the carpet and pointedly not looking up, “You tell me,”

“I want to hear it from your point of view,”

Of course he does. Of fucking course. Kylo huffs. 

“I got outed,” he says, “No, sorry, I got forced to out myself to an entire class – it’ll be the entire year by lunch time, I can guarantee that to you – because I’m an idiot,” 

Obi Wan gives him a _look_ over the top of his glasses, and Kylo knows that look. It’s the same one he gives Anakin when he’s said something stupid or self-deprecating that Obi doesn’t approve of. 

“While I have to disagree with your last remark,” he says, “I’m going to ask you to elaborate on it,” 

“How much time do you have,” Kylo laughs, “There’s a long list of reasons,” 

A sigh. “Why don’t we start with why they were in the classroom in the first place…?” 

“Oh no,” Kylo says, shaking his head, “Absolutely not. That particular storyline takes the fucking biscuit. Pride of place on Kylo’s stupid decision’s list, actually,” 

The whole situation had been born out of his need for validation and kept running by the overwhelming abandonment issues. His life at this point, he figures, is a joke gone seriously wrong. Leaving the city and coming back to school in a small town was a mistake, and he’s still pissed off at Leia for it, underneath everything. 

And now, it seems, his own cousin is part of whatever’s going on. He can’t wrap his head around it. He feels betrayed and pissed off, and he’s seriously itching for the lighter in his jeans pocket. Even just the act of flicking it on and off would probably calm him down right now, but he can’t risk taking it out, because Obi Wan would confiscate that, too. 

“Can I have my phone back?” he asks, abruptly. He’s vaguely aware that Obi has been speaking, and that he doesn’t look pleased at having been interrupted. 

“Really it should be returned to you at the end of the day,” he says, slowly, “Why do you need it now?”

“I want to go home,” Kylo says, giving his uncle what he hopes is a pleading look, “And I need to phone Han to pick me up at lunch,”

Obi Wan takes his glasses off and rubs the bridge of his nose, “You won’t solve anything by running away from all of your problems,” he says. 

“It seems to have worked for me so far,” Kylo counters, “It’s okay for you. You got to come out when you _wanted_ to, and people were okay with it. I had that decision taken away from me and now I’m something to gossip about. I can’t handle it. You know I can’t handle it. I shouldn’t even be here in the first place. Please,” 

“Okay – fine. Just, let me finish this assessment with you, because it’s overdue and the head of student support has been asking me for it, then I’ll sign you off and have your dad take you home. Deal?” 

Kylo studies him for a moment, and then nods. “Okay,” he says, “Deal,”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> schedule lmao what schedule 
> 
> [please heed the updated tags: content warning for mentions of self harm]

Hux has never missed a class – ever, not even when he was twelve and had tonsillitis for two weeks – there was something about it that just set him on edge. Even if he felt like he was going to die any second and his temperature was through the roof, he was there, doing his work to the best of his ability.

Today though, he marches outside as soon as he loses sight of Kylo. His stomach feels weird, like a thousand butterflies doing somersaults. Like they might burst out through his ribcage, if he has to sit inside any longer. He can only imagine how Kylo’s feeling right now. 

Phasma is sitting in their usual spot under the tree, her head propped against her book bag and a pair of sunglasses shielding her eyes as she appears to sleep. Hux stops at the edge of the bench and prods at her shoulder. 

“Wake up,” he says, “This is important,” 

To her credit, she doesn’t jump or startle, simply slides the oversized glasses a centimetre or two down the bridge of her nose and raises one elegant, well shaped eyebrow.

“Am I hallucinating?” she asks, pointedly giving him a once over, “It’s class time. And you’re outside?” Hux stares at her, unblinking, and she pushes herself up onto her elbows and glances behind him, “Where’s Kylo?”

“I don’t know,” Hux replies, flatly. 

Phasma blinks at him a couple of times, and slowly removes the glasses to perch them atop her head, “Hey,” she says, with a frown, “Is something wrong?”

He motions for her to move and she does, allowing him to sink down onto the bench and drop his face into his hands. He stays like that for a moment, feeling her concerned gaze on his back, and then sits up with a low exhale. 

“He – I –” Hux frowns, shakes his head, “I don’t even know where to start? It’s that stupid fucking – app thing, that he had, on his phone. Some girls in our year used it to out him to the entire class and then he ran off and I have no idea where he is and everyone’s going to be talking about it,” he finishes the last sentence in a rush, and hides his face again when he’s done.

Phasma takes a moment to process this. “They what?” 

“Outed him. To the whole class.” Hux repeats, rubbing at his eyes. He wishes Kylo had his phone just now, but Mr Kenobi had put it firmly back in the desk and ordered the group to leave. Not that it had made any difference, Kylo’s face had changed and Hux knew he was in danger of losing it completely. If only he’d been able to catch up with him. 

Hux feels dizzy. Kylo could be _anywhere_ by now. 

“We need to find him,” Hux says, looking at his friend, “Right now,” 

Phasma rubs at his arm and he tries not to flinch away, “I’m sure he’ll be okay,” she tells him, “Maybe he just needs space. It’s a lot to deal with,” 

Hux shakes his head, “You don’t understand,” he says, “You haven’t seen him under this much stress before, he could be anywhere, doing anything. I mean it.”

She frowns, worrying at her lower lip, “You’re really worried,” she observes. Hux refrains from making a sarcastic comment in response – he knows what she means. It’s rare that he’s so open with his emotions; the complete opposite of Kylo who lets the entire world know whenever something goes minutely wrong. But this is urgent, and he needs Phasma to realise what it means. 

“Yes,” he says, his thoughts going a million miles an hour, vaguely aware he’s on the verge of rambling now, “I’d give you more details if it wasn’t really hypocritical of me to do so, given what’s just happened. He should tell you himself but – I’m sure you’ve pieced together enough of his, uh, personality to know that he overreacts to everything, so something this big happening could be enough to –” 

Phasma holds up a hand. “Hux, it’s okay,” she says, pushing herself to her feet, “I understand. We better go. Do you think he’ll still be at school?”

“He could be anywhere,” Hux repeats, lamely. 

“Okay,” Phasma passes a hand back through her hair, tousling it, “I’ll check round here. You should go to his house, just in case. Call me if you find him,” 

Hux nods as he stands up, thanking the universe for blessing him with a friend as good as Phasma. She turns to go, but he hesitates, “Phas,” 

“Hm?” she glances back over her shoulder. 

“Thank you.” He means it. He wants her to know this. 

She smiles. “Don’t mention it,”

*** 

Han opens the door when Hux rings the bell, pressing it awkwardly with the knuckle of his thumb and waiting on the top step, trying to slow the rapid hammering of his heart. Kylo’s dad looks at him for a moment, surveying, before opening the door wider.

“He’s upstairs,” Han says, quietly as Hux toes his shoes off in the hall, “We got back about half an hour ago, I haven’t been able to get anything out of him,” he looks just like Hux feels. Sick with worry. 

Hux climbs the stairs and crosses the hall, dithering awkwardly for a couple of moments before taking a breath and tapping gently on the wood of Kylo’s bedroom door. 

Kylo’s voice sounds almost immediately after, a muffled, “Go away,” 

“It’s me,” he says. 

Silence. Then the sound of feet hitting the carpet. A moment later, the door cracks open and Kylo blinks at him blearily with one eye. His room looks dark, from what little of it Hux can see. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, peering out into the hall “Did my – did Leia send you?” 

“No. Can I come in?” 

Kylo huffs, but steps back from the door, pulling it open as he does and gesturing vaguely for him to enter. Hux goes straight over to open the curtains, picking his way over the piles of washing and books that are strewn across the carpet. When he turns back, Kylo is still lingering by the door, one hand fiddling with the doorknob. 

His eyes are red, like he’s been crying. 

“Well?” he says, when Hux keeps on looking at him wordlessly. He’s holding his left arm awkwardly to his side, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the brass knob. 

“Can you close the door? I want to talk to you,” 

“You sound like Han,” Kylo mutters, but he does what he’s been asked to and turns, leaning back against the door with his arms crossed, surveying. 

Hux realises that he hadn’t even planned what he wanted to say. He hasn’t contacted Phasma, either, but that will have to wait. 

In lieu of something more intelligent, he settles for a simple, “Are you okay?”

Kylo snorts. “Fantastic, thanks,” 

“You know what I mean,” Hux sighs, trying not to sound exasperated already. 

“Do I,” 

“Ky, don’t be difficult. Please,” 

“Oh sorry,” Kylo pushes away from the door, though he keeps his arms folded, “I forgot everything was my fault. I’m the difficult one, ruining everything for myself,” 

“I didn’t say that,” Hux replies, keeping his voice as level as he can. Talking to Kylo sometimes feels like approaching a wild animal. One misstep and all hell might break loose. He glances down, “What’s wrong with your arm?” 

Kylo stiffens. “Nothing.” 

“Let me see it,” 

“It’s fine,” 

“If it’s fine, then you don’t need to hide anything,” 

Kylo’s voice wavers, “Hux –” 

“Show me your fucking arm Kylo, or I swear to god I am going downstairs to get your dad,” it’s a low move, but Hux feels like he might throw up if he doesn’t at least _know_. They maintain steady eye contact until Kylo drops his gaze uncomfortably. His arms loosen their grip on one another, and drop to his side. 

Hux lets out a breath and inches forward. Kylo tenses up again when Hux is in front of him, but he stays still and allows Hux to gently tug the left sleeve of his shirt up to the elbow. 

To say it isn’t as bad as he’d expected would be to completely downplay the severity of the entire situation, but somewhere in the back of his mind Hux allows himself to be relieved that Kylo didn’t do anything major – like sever an artery. He’s done that before. It landed him in an inpatient unit. 

But still, the skin of his forearm is red, and angry, and bleeding, and it’s audible when Hux swallows down the lump in his throat. Kylo still won’t look at him. 

“You didn’t tell me you’d been doing this again,” he says. He’s cradling Kylo’s left hand in the palm of his, aware of the points of contact, yet not uncomfortable with it like he normally would be. 

“What are you, my fucking psychiatrist,” 

“You’re my best friend, idiot, which means I care about you,” Hux lets Kylo pull his arm away. He sighs and watches helplessly as Kylo yanks his sleeve back down and edges around him, going over to look pensively out of his window. It would be amusing under other circumstances. As it is, Hux just wants to wrap Kylo in a blanket and hide him away from the world. 

Both of them, maybe. 

“Why aren’t you at school,” Kylo asks eventually. He’s tapping his fingernails against the windowpane, like he always does when he’s anxious or uncomfortable. The sound grates on Hux’s nerves. 

“Are you kidding,” Hux says, “I was fucking worried. I skipped class,”

“You –” Kylo starts, then huffs out a quiet breath, “Sorry.” 

Hux starts to say _’You don’t need to apologise,’_ at the exact same time as Kylo continues, talking over him. 

“So not only am I ruining my own life, I’m messing yours up, too. Fuck.” On the last word, he slams his fist down against the window ledge, causing a few CDs to jump from their perch, rattling the bookshelf on the opposite wall. 

“Kylo,”

“Go away, Hux,” 

His stomach twists. “I don’t think that’s –”

“Get _out_ ,” Kylo shouts, his knuckles white where they’re now gripping the edge of the windowsill. Hux takes a couple of steps backwards until he bumps against the door. Kylo doesn’t turn, but Hux can just about make out his facial features in the reflection. 

“Okay,” he says, turning. He pulls his sleeve down over the palm of his hands and awkwardly hooks the door open, pausing to look back over his shoulder at his friend. Kylo’s whole body is rigid. “Please just – look after yourself, okay?” 

He doesn’t expect a reply, and doesn’t receive one. He leaves the door slightly ajar as he makes his way back down the stairs to find Han lingering awkwardly in the hallway, obviously eavesdropping. He looks a little guilty. 

“Hey, kid,” he says, “How’s uh – things?” 

“Not great,” Hux replies, shoving his shoes back on and frowning, “I’m sure you heard,” 

“ – yeah,” Han glances up at the ceiling. The hall is almost directly below Kylo’s bedroom, “I take it you’re not gonna tell me what happened at school this morning?” 

“Sorry,” 

Han nods slowly, “It’s okay. You’re a good friend to him,” he looks so utterly sincere, for a moment Hux thinks that he might actually reach over and _hug_ him. In the end all he does is clap Hux on the shoulder once, and move to open the front door. 

Hux hesitates on the front step again. “Mr Solo,” he says. 

“Call me Han, kid, you’ve known me long enough,” 

“Don’t leave him by himself for too long?” Hux says, feeling like a traitor for saying this, because if Kylo finds out he’ll hate him, but knowing it’s for the best, “Check up on him. Please,” 

Han studies him for a moment, leaning against the doorframe. He nods. “Sure thing. You need me to arrange a lift home for you?” 

Hux would be dead if he arrived home before five. He’s supposed to have debate group after school. He shakes his head, and forces a polite smile, “No thank you. I’m going to walk back down to the school anyway. If you – or Kylo – need anything though…let me know,” 

“’Course. See you around,” 

Hux makes his way back down the hill, forcing himself not to turn and look back up at Kylo’s bedroom window on his way. Instead, he pulls his phone from his jeans pocket, and cringes. 

Three missed calls from Phasma, and seven texts. He opens them. 

**From: Phaz**  
_no idea where kylo is!!!_

**From: Phaz**  
_Maybe he’s hiding in the bathroom idk_

**From: Phaz**  
_nvm I checked he isn’t there_

 **From: Phaz**  
_wbu ?_

**From: Phaz**  
_Hux???_

**From: Phaz**  
_fucki g n_

**From: Phaz**  
_Where the hell are you?!_

He texts her back an apology and a short reply, and shoves his phone away again. It’s a long walk back to the school, and the rest of the afternoon is going to drag on even longer. He sighs, thinking of Kylo and the stupid mess of a situation he’s gotten himself into.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really not happy with this but am I ever happy with anything I write? the answer is no. I hope this is of an appropriate standard.

Kylo doesn’t come into school on Tuesday, or Wednesday, or Thursday. Hux feels lost in History class sitting by himself at the table they usually share, but he keeps his head down and does his work, ignoring the looks from his classmates and the concerned gaze of Mr Kenobi. 

On his way outside to lunch, one of the football players – tall, ridiculously broad and sporting some kind of horrendous bleach blonde bowl cut – stops him at the lockers. 

“Hey, ginge!” he calls. Hux pauses and huffs out a sigh, glancing back over his shoulder as the other boy makes his way across the hall, followed by his entourage of other oddly proportioned sportsmen and their gaggle of potential girlfriends. 

“Yes?” Hux says, tightening his hand ever so slightly on the strap of his satchel. He’ll hit somebody with it, if he has to. 

The bowl cut one flashes him a lopsided grin, “I’ve got a couple of questions for you,” he drawls, causing his friends to snicker, “That alright?” 

Hux is immediately suspicious. “It depends on what the questions are,” 

“I’ll just go ahead and get right to it then,” he leans one hand against the front of the lockers, looming uncomfortably close, “My question is, I hear your friend Solo’s a homo. That true?” 

“Uh,” Hux says, eloquently. 

“What was that? You gotta speak up so we can all hear you,” 

“That depends on what you mean by homo,” Hux tells him, glancing around for an escape route. He spots an opening in the bustle of the corridor, “You know. Like, homosapien? I’d hope so. Ha ha. Anyway, I have things to be doing so…see you later bye,” he garbles the rest of the sentence and legs it through the crowd, hoping that nobody follows him out. 

Thankfully, he makes it out one of the back fire escapes and round to their tree without anybody following him. He collapses down on the bench when he arrives, causing Phasma to glance up from eating her sandwich. 

“What’s up?” she asks, taking another bite and eyeing him with concern. 

“People are talking about Kylo,” Hux says. 

Phasma hums, “We knew they would. Word goes round fast here,” 

“I wish they wouldn’t,” Hux leans his head against the trunk, staring up into the foliage as though it holds the answers he needs.

*** 

It’s raining, so hard and so heavy that it’s bouncing off the ground. Kylo’s been sitting at the window ledge for nearly an hour, feeling as melancholy as the weather outside looks. He doesn’t particularly feel connected to his body any more.

Han comes into the living room behind him, Kylo hears him hesitating. “Hey, kid –”

Kylo pushes to his feet. “I’m going out,” he announces, grabbing his jacket from where it hangs over the back of an armchair and shrugging it on. 

“Whoa, wait,” Han blocks his exit, holding both hands out, “Where to? Your mom and I think it’s best that you stay inside for –”

“I’ve been cooped up all week.” Kylo interrupts, “I’m sick of this house.” 

He shoves past Han as he zips up the front of his coat and makes his way into the hall to grab a pair of boots. 

“At least tell me where you’re going,” Han says, dithering by the door. “So I know you’re safe,” 

Kylo shrugs. “Out somewhere. I’ll be back later.” He steps out into the rain and slams the door shut behind him. 

He realises, halfway down the street, that his jacket is lacking in a hood and he forgot to bring an umbrella. He values his pride too much to slouch back up to the house to retrieve one, content to give himself pneumonia instead, if he must. What’s the saying? – biting his nose to spite his face? Kylo’s an absolute pro at it. 

He wanders down into the main shopping precinct, which is essentially just one row of converted Victorian houses, ducking past young kids coming home from school and old couples out on their way to the post office or corner shop. Deciding to avoid the main part of the town altogether, he ventures down one of the quieter paths that leads towards the forest and, when he’s satisfied that nobody will disturb him, drops down onto a bench that’s already soaked through from the rain, and curls up. 

Hux finds him there hours later, freezing and soaked through to the skin, hair plastered to his forehead from the rain. Kylo only notices when the rain suddenly stops. He looks up to see Hux holding an umbrella over them both, looking worried. 

“Hey.” He says, “Can I sit?” 

Kylo shrugs, “If you want,” 

Hux puts his bag down on the slippery, damp wood, and sits on top of it, switching the umbrella to his other hand so that it comfortably shelters them both from the worst of the weather. Kylo glances at him for a moment, before staring straight ahead again. He’s been watching the rain bounce off the same leaf for ages now. 

“Do you want to go inside?” Hux asks, “And get dried off?” 

“No,” 

“Okay,” he pauses, “Are you…alright?” 

Kylo snorts. “Not particularly,” he turns his head and sees Hux’s face fall fractionally, and mentally scolds himself for being so blunt. “Sorry.” He adds, “I didn’t mean it to sound like that.” 

He scuffs the toe of his shoe against the soil, kicking at a couple of loose stones. Unable to resist, he asks, “What’ve people been saying at school about me?” 

“I haven’t actually heard loads,” Hux replies, “A couple of people have asked me about it, but I’ve not told them anything other than it’s none of their business,” 

“Oh,” Kylo says. He knows it’s ridiculous, but he’s spent the past few days worrying about what people were saying – worrying about what Hux and Phasma were saying about him, even. It’s gratifying to know that they haven’t been saying anything at all. “Thank you.” 

Hux gently bumps their elbows together. “You don’t need to thank me,” he says. 

They fall into a comfortable silence; nothing but them and the gentle patter of the rain. 

Kylo eventually pushes his wet hair back from his forehead, revealing a dark purple bruise just above his eyebrow. He scowls and turns away when he notices Hux looking at it. 

“What happened?” he asks. 

“I headbutted someone,” Kylo replies, “Wasn’t my best idea.” 

Hux decides to follow that up another time, when Kylo seems more willing to talk about it. They can laugh about it one day, perhaps, when this whole mess is in the past. He tries to find another conversational topic that’s less triggering, and draws a blank.

So he says the first thing that comes to mind. “Are you coming back to school?” 

To his surprise, Kylo doesn’t snap back at him. He just sighs, and slumps a little lower down on the bench, picking at the loose wood with his fingernails. 

“I don’t know,” he says, “I don’t – I don’t want to not graduate. Not when it’s so close, but.” He makes a vague gesture with his free hand which Hux interprets as a shrug. 

“You should,” 

“You sound like my parents,” 

“I don’t mean it like that,” Hux shakes his head, “If school isn’t right for you then I guess there’s no point but if you stay at home then you’re letting everyone – all the people you hate – win. I don’t think it’s worth it. And on a slightly more selfish note – I miss you. Phas misses you,” 

Kylo looks at him for a long, unblinking moment. The corner of his lip twitches up, just a little. 

“I guess you do have a point.”

They sit for another hour or so, alternating between companionable silence and idle chatter. It’s still light outside when Hux glances at his watch, but he can already tell that the sky is beginning to dull, the sun likely already starting its descent behind the hills. He’s been out far longer than he meant to be, and his Father likely won’t be happy about it. 

He turns to Kylo, “I didn’t realise the time,” he says, “I should really get going,” 

Kylo looks at the time on his phone, “Shit,” he says, “I didn’t realise we’d been here for that long.” 

“Do you want me to walk you home?” 

“Nah, you go ahead, I’m gonna stay out for a little longer,” 

Hux stands, trying to keep the umbrella over them both as he does so. “Alright well, stay safe okay? Call or text me if you need to. Honestly.” 

“Quit fussing,” Kylo says, but he’s smiling. He holds out a hand for their customary fist-bump, preferable, most of the time, to hugging. But Hux surprises him by leaning in and wrapping his free arm around Kylo, squeezing him tightly. Kylo hesitates, then lets both of his own hands come to rest on Hux’s back. They remain like that for a few moment, before Hux drops his forehead onto Kylo’s shoulder, and eases away. 

His cheeks have gone a little pink when he straightens back up. 

“Anyway,” he says, “Uh. I’ll see you soon, yeah?” 

“Yeah,”Kylo says, blinking up at him. He only remembers to wave goodbye after Hux has already started walking, the rain slapping against his skin like needles.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO if you're a frequent reader of the fic you probably have two questions. 1) Why tf has it taken so long to update lately??? and 2) Why tf is there another author now?? Well. Those may both be my fault. So hi, I'm Erin and I'll probably (maybe) be helping write! Which is ridiculous because I'm being fancy and grammatical here for the sake of appearances when like half of the comments on this fic are my incoherent nonsense. Uh. 
> 
> Anyway I usually help out behind the scenes so I'm super nervous about uploading this chapter; I hope you guys enjoy it!
> 
> I'm also over on tumblr @darthrevcn if you wanna talk Star Wars or demand I be fired immediately. Either works ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Kylo doesn’t bother going to school on Friday. He’s avoided the rest of the week, he might as well just see it through. Leia tries to urge him to go in as he lies in bed, back turned to the door - “even just for an _hour,_ ” she says - but he shrugs her off, eyes fixed on a dot of blu tack on the wall until she closes the door and he knows he’s safe.

He feels a little guilty about it: Leia tries, which is more than some parents he knows, but she doesn’t understand. She never has and his father’s no better.

Speaking of his father, he can hear clattering from downstairs and the sounds of various devices clicking on and off which means Leia has talked Han into staying home to watch over him today. It’s kind of pointless, Kylo muses, given that he’s been left alone on at least two days this week.

It’s a point of conflict for him if he’s honest. Han doesn’t really have to work; in fact Kylo’s not really sure what he does besides hang around the school and perform odd jobs. He’s been a janitor, a substitute teacher and a language assistant before, though Kylo’s pretty sure he isn’t qualified to do any of those. It’s beside the point though. The point is he doesn’t really _do_ anything, he could stay home any time to look after his son. But he doesn’t. He’d rather be anywhere else, whether it be working at the school, fixing cars or trying to swindle the locals into paying him more than he was due for items that, as he claimed, “fell off the back of a lorry”.

This is where the conflict comes in though. Kylo doesn’t want him there. Hell, he’d pay Han to fuck off during the day if he thought he’d get some peace. It’s more about the principle of the thing. He doesn’t want a babysitter, he just wants someone to give a shit not out of obligation. That’s part of the reason he’s so grateful for Hux and Phasma – not that he tells them that. Phasma would probably punch him in the arm and call him a sap while Hux would grimace and make him promise never to show any signs of affection again.

He’s still mulling over the list of people who give a damn about his wellbeing whenever there’s a knock on the door – he got to four, for the record, five if he includes Leia with her attempts at mothering outside her career. He groans and turns over again, hoping his father will give in and go back downstairs if he stays silent enough.

The door opens a moment later anyway, proving that theory wrong, but it’s not Han’s voice he hears calling to him.

“Kylo? Are you awake?” The name is an instant giveaway and he shrugs out of his blanket cocoon to face the girl in the doorway.

His face scrunches up in confusion when he sees his cousin, shrouded in layers and cardigans with her mousey hair poking out beneath her hood. “Rey? Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

She smiles devilishly and throws herself down on his bed, narrowly missing his feet that are scrunched up near the bottom. “Dad let me have the day off to go see you because _I’m_ not flunking science.”

“Well, it’s not like you had any disturbances lately,” he says with a scowl, suddenly remembering the reason he hasn’t spoken to his cousin over the last week.

She looks chastened by his words, face falling instantly. She picks at a stray lock of her hair, twirling it around her fingers as she always does when she’s anxious, and when she speaks again she can’t meet his eye. “That’s, um, that’s why I’m here.” Her eyes are still trained on the floor and she has to take a deep breath before she continues. “I’m really sorry, Kylo. I didn’t know you were the secret gay, it’s just Jess had this idea and then she asked me to help her and I was too frightened to say no and –”

Kylo sighs. He wants to tell her to leave, to scream and shout and slam the door, but instead he wraps his arms around her tiny frame and pulls her close. He’s still angry – he’s furious, in fact, and probably will be for quite some time yet – but he can never stay mad at Rey for long. There’s something about the innocence and earnestness on her face that diffuses any of the anger directed at her.

“It’s okay,” he says, even though it’s not. He’s barely gotten out of bed in the last week, save for his last excursion that almost gave him pneumonia, and his arm still stings like a bitch.

Rey always knows though and she shakes her head as she pulls away, tears glinting in her eyes. “It’s not okay though. I’m sorry, Kylo, I just thought if I helped Jess I might be able to distract her, but it wasn’t really a good idea and now things suck for you and-everything-is-awful.” She throws her head into her hands in despair and Kylo places a hand awkwardly on her back in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. He doesn’t know what it is about their family, but he can definitely say that his grandma Skywalker raised a bunch of dramatists.

“Distract her from what?”

He sees his cousin tense up and he knows he’s onto something. “Distract her from what, Rey?”

“I, um.” Her eyes are still red from crying and her voice shakes with every word. “I’m, maybe, um. I’m maybe also a secret gay? That sounds terrible, oh my God.”

Kylo has to grab her hands to stop her from covering her face again and it takes him ten minutes to get her to calm down - or at least get her to stop trying to will the ground to open up and swallow her. It’s an awkward scene, but it wouldn’t be their family without things like this.

Rey brushes the hair out of her eyes once she’s finally calmed down. Her breath is still ragged but she’s able to speak and she smiles awkwardly at Kylo.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, her voice muffled by her sleeve as she moves to wipe her eyes.

Kylo laughs. Her hair is mussed and unruly from where she’d nestled her head in his neck, and her eyes and cheeks are red and puffy. She’s a vision of a seven year old Rey with big brown eyes and a snotty nose and Kylo can’t help but find amusement in the flashback.

“You know,” he says, eager to see her smile again. “They say everyone has a gay cousin.”

She punches him in the arm for this - the good arm, at least. “That’s not even funny,” she says, except it kind of is, and she’s giggling despite herself. It’s infectious and Kylo can’t even fight against it; it’s like they’re both kids again and his shitty week barely even registers anymore. For once in his life he feels like thanking whatever deity is responsible for the emotional rollercoaster that is his existence.

***

The house is silent when Leia comes home, which manages to peak at around third on her list of most concerning things she’s encountered this week. She’s even more worried until she finds Han passed out on the couch in the living room with a programme about sharks flashing unnoticed in the background. She rolls her eyes as she shakes him awake and fixes him with a look he’s seen countless times in the twenty something years they’ve known each other.

“Where’s Ben?” She asks in her perfect headmistress voice. Not only does it intimidate the students, it works on her husband as well.

Han grumbles as he forces himself awake, eyes straining against the light. “He’s upstairs. Hngh. What time is it?”

Leia tuts, even more concerned. She’d told Han to take the day off to watch over Ben, not to take a nap while watching shark week.

“It’s four thirty,” she says, her voice sterner than she’d use with any of her pupils. They’re going to have a _talk_ about this later.

She turns and leaves as quick as she came, climbing up the stairs as fast as the heels and the pencil skirt she wears for the sake of professionalism will allow her. It’s not the first time she’s come home to a scene like this. She prays to God it won’t be the last.

She’s close to bursting into her son’s room, privacy be damned, when she hears his voice and then, very faintly, a girl’s voice. She allows herself to breathe, one hand pressed against the wall to compose herself, before knocking on the door. There’s an answer a moment later and she opens the door to find Ben lying at the top of his bed, phone in hand, with her niece sat hunched over her own at the bottom.

“Rey,” she says, equal parts confused and relieved. “Shouldn’t you have been in school today?”

Rey looks up from her phone, stray locks of hair in her eyes, and grins sheepishly. “Dad let me have the day off to come see Kylo.”

Leia raises an eyebrow, ignoring the nickname. “He did, did he? And what did he think I’d have to say about that?” She places a hand on her hip. It’s an old charade but Rey knows exactly how to play along.

“He said you’d be happy to know he’s offering Kylo extra tutoring for the time he’s missed.”

“Uh huh. That’s better.”

She allows herself a contented smile. It’s been a while since she’s seen her son look so calm, and with Rey no less. She turns to leave again, not wanting to intrude any more than she already has. “Well, dinner will be ready in half an hour. Make sure you wash up beforehand.” There’s a muffled response from the pair that she assumes is an affirmative.

As she closes the door, she hears Rey cackle. “Ha! I caught a Squirtle! Take that!” A low groan follows, and then, Ben’s voice - “I wasted all my fucking Pokéballs trying to catch a _Pidgey_.”

Leia has no idea what a Pokéball is or why her son is catching pigeons, but for the first time in a week she feels almost calm.

She just hopes it lasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now that u've read the chapter i can go back to being an incoherent mess yay i hope u all enjoyed<33
> 
> the pidgey thing is a true story btw i have no pokeballs bc i wasted them all trying to catch a pidgeot lmao moral of the story is do not play pokemon with me it is a v frustrating experience


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like, despite the lack of Pokemon in this chapter (sorry Erin), you should all know that the working title for this chapter was _Pokemon 2: The Reckoning_. Which is a reference I will be super proud of anybody for actually catching on to and I found amusing despite never having played Pokemon Go ever in my boring adult life lmao
> 
> Also, I have to apologise for the shortness of this chapter, it was supposed to be around 2000 words but then life got in the way ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

After Rey leaves he feels marginally better. He sits in the edge of his bed, staring out of the window for a long while at the sun as it makes its slow descent over the horizon, behind miles and miles of dense, overgrown forest. He misses the city, but he can’t deny that there’s a certain charm to this place – despite its overall shitty small country town vibe. 

Leia comes to talk to him when the last of the orange is starting to fade from the sky, darkened by the inky night bleeding into it, pattered by the occasional star. He’s been avoiding her for the better part of a week, he knows it can’t continue forever. Hugging a pillow to his chest as a makeshift fortress, he calls her in. 

She shuts his door over, and sits herself down on the messy surface of his desk chair. Out of her work clothes, she looks more like his Mother and less like the Principal. He waits for her to speak.

“Ben,” she begins, cutting herself short with a sigh and a shake of the head. The name thing doesn’t come easy to her, he doesn’t think she’ll ever stop using that one, and he wants to hate her for it but it isn’t always easy. “Are you going to talk to me about what happened this week?”

“No,” he says. 

“Well – are you going back to school on Monday?” 

He rests his chin on the top of his knees, arms hugging the pillow tighter, “I don’t know,” he confesses. Knowing that Rey is on his side – even secretly – has helped a little. But he doesn’t know if he can face going in and being the centre of attention in such a negative light. 

Leia changes her tactic. “It was nice of Rey to come by this afternoon,” 

Kylo looks at her from beneath his lashes, eyes squinted in suspicion. “I guess.” 

“I’m sure she’d keep an eye on you,” 

Kylo screws his eyes shut, “Mom –” it’s been a long time since he addressed her as such. He cuts himself off short, though he doesn’t even need to open his eyes to know that she’s trying to stop herself from beaming. “Leia,” he corrects, because he can, and because he’s in uncertain waters and pushing people away is the only defence mechanism he currently has, “Leave it.” 

She presses on. “I’m worried about you.” she says, slipping into the largely-unused-concerned-mom-voice that he detests. “Have you…fallen out with Hux?” 

“For fucks – no!” he lifts his head and lets it smack back down against his kneecaps, painfully, “I don’t want to talk about this. Please go away.” 

Kylo holds his breath for a few, very heavy moments, until he hears Leia sigh and rise from the chair, the floorboards creaking faintly as she makes her way to the door, where she pauses. He knows that she’s looking back at him, her eyes, much like his own, far too open and expressive than they have any right to be. He keeps his face hidden until she leaves, clicking the door shut on her way out. 

He lets out a very shaky breath.

*** 

“So,” Phasma says, sidling up to him with an unlit cigarette hanging from between her lips, thumbing at the flint wheel on her lighter. It sparks and ignites, and she flicks it shut and pockets it with a deep inhale, “New word on the street. Wanna hear?”

Hux glances at her from under his lashes, keeping his head down to avoid the glare of the sun. It’s annoyingly high in the sky for this time of day. He shrugs. “Probably not, but I’d rather hear it from you than anybody else,” 

They enter the school grounds, squeezing and shoving their way past groups of other pupils. Phasma dips her head a little closer so that she can lower her voice, “People think you and Kylo are dating,”

“ _What_?”” 

He cringes as a few heads turn in their direction. Phasma places a hand on his shoulder and firmly steers him around the side of the building, into the relative quiet of the bike sheds. 

“Who – I’m not even _out_ ,” Hux hisses, trying to quell the rising panic in his chest, for more than one reason. Firstly, if word of this gets back to his house, he won’t have anywhere to live. His Father won’t stand for it. Hux can imagine the sneer in his voice, saying _not in my house_. As for the second reason – well. 

“Hux,” she says, firmly, “Chill. I don’t know who started it, but it was all I heard at track on Friday.”

Usually, her voice would be enough to have him feeling even a little calmer, but his mind is racing. A million thoughts a minute. ( _fuck, fuck, fuck_ ). He leans a hand against the wall to steady himself, taps his fingers compulsively against the pebbledash until Phasma swats at him to stop. 

“I can’t,” he says. “Shit. Phas, if my Father –”

“I know.” 

“No you don’t. He’ll kick me out, I’ll lose everything!"

“So say you’re dating me,” She blows smoke out the side of her mouth, looking nonchalant as ever, as if she’s just commented on the weather, or what time of day it is. Hux blinks at her a couple of times.

“But you’re a lesbian,”

“And you’re gayer than a rainbow flag sticking out of Elton John’s ass, I know,” Phasma shrugs, “But other people don’t know that, right? It’ll be your cover until prom and then nobody’s any the wiser,”

He’s sceptical, but pretending to date one of his best friends is – admittedly – preferable to being outed. Hux screws his eyes shut, thinking of Kylo and how fucking unfair this whole scenario is. Phasma gently elbows him, and he opens his eyes to see her peering at him with something approaching concern. 

“Hey,” she says, “We’ll fix this, the three of us. It’s only a couple of months till the year finishes and we’re free from all this bullshit, anyway.” Flicking the cigarette butt into the bin at her side, she adjusts her bag straps and rises to her full height. “Come on,”

“I don’t know about this,” he says, dubiously. There aren’t any other solutions coming to mind. Phasma is looking at him expectantly, though, and he sighs, “Okay. Do I have to hold your hand,” 

She snorts and loops her arm through the crook of his, “’Course not. Let’s get to class, lover boy,”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...hi guys, it's been a while hasn't it? 
> 
> I'm so, _so_ sorry for the huge gap between this chapter and the previous one. Life, as usual, got in the way and before I realised what was going on, it had been almost 5 months since I updated this. I can't make any promises about how regular updates are going to be from this point on, but hopefully it wont be another 5 months until chapter 12!

“So…I maybe said that Kylo could sit with us at break and lunch from now on,” Rey says, hovering by the door. From the corner of her eye, she can see Finn looking at Poe, back at her, then back at Poe. For a moment, it’s very quiet. 

Then, all at once, her two best friends begin speaking over each other. 

“ _Kylo_ , you mean the current scandal of the school –”

“Is that your cousin who sets everything on fire?” 

Rey exhales. “That would be the one, yes,” she says, glancing up, trying not to cringe too obviously. “It’s only a couple months till he graduates, please guys,” 

Finn slumps back in his computer chair. He casts another long look at Poe, who just raises his eyebrow, and shrugs. 

“Fine!” Finn says, throwing up both hands as though the decision pains him. Rey grins.

“Thank you!” she sing-songs, bounding in and dropping herself down to sit on one of the empty computer chairs beside her friends. They seem to be finishing off some kind of assignment, as they often spend their free classes and break times doing. Usually, Rey plays Pokemon nearby and enjoys the relative quiet. Today, she’s on a mission. “So. You’d better finish up.” She says, pointedly. 

Poe’s chair creaks. Finn glances over at her. 

“Because Kylo is waiting on us downstairs,” she continues, “I text him the location of the hide out,”

Poe winces like he knows what’s coming, just as Finn spins around in his own chair, slowly, until he’s directly facing her. “Rey,” he says, slowly, “There are a million things wrong with that sentence. You can’t tell other people our secret hideout location! That’s why its called a,” he raises his hands and does exaggerated air quotations, “Secret hideout,” 

“Oh, come on,” she says, looking at Poe for backup, “It’s my cousin. It’s not like I’m telling _his_ friends,” 

“Speaking of,” Poe says, saving his work and logging out of the computer, “They’ve been very quiet in all this aftermath, y’know?” 

Rey shrugs. “Ky and Hux have been best friends for years. I’m sure he and Phasma have their reasons,” she stands from her chair, not wanting to leave her cousin waiting for too long, lest Jess arrive unscheduled and scare the hell out of him, “It’s just until this all blows over, alright? It won’t be long. Promise. He’s fun, when you get to know him,”

Finn snorts as he tucks the chair back into its place under the computer desk. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” 

It’s all Rey can do not to swat at him as he passes her, slinging his bag over one shoulder and pulling the door to the computer room open. She could absolutely take him down, if she wanted, but it isn’t worth it. Kylo isn’t easy to deal with – not by any stretch of the imagination – but he’s funny and charming when he _wants_ to be, and besides, Finn is far more empathetic than he likes to let on. Rey knows he cares, deep down. Even if it’s only because Kylo’s family to her. 

She sends her cousin a brief text to let him know that they’re on their way, and follows her two best friends down the stairs. Jess and Kaydel don’t sit with the three of them at lunch, usually busy with whichever extracurricular has caught their attention that particular week, which will be to Kylo’s benefit, as Rey can imagine he doesn’t much want two of the people who outed him to be present when he’s trying to hide from the entire world. 

Rey makes a mental note to get everything smoothed over in that department, at some point. She’s not ready to come out yet herself – doesn’t really think that it should be _necessary_ , but the world is what it is. And she’ll cross that bridge when she inevitably comes to it. 

They spot Kylo a mile off, clad all in black in a sea of varying plaid shirts, and Rey lifts her hand to give him a little wave as they approach. He’s half tucked under the bleachers, listening to music on his headphones, which he slips off as they come to a halt in front of him. 

He gives them a nod, glancing quickly at Poe and Finn before letting his gaze rest somewhere over Rey’s shoulder. 

“Right.” Finn says, dumping his bag on the grass and shrugging off his jacket. Rey vaguely recognises it as having belonged to Poe, at some point. “I’m gonna be blunt about this,” he continues, and Rey groans inwardly, “I don’t like you that much. You’re disruptive and overdramatic, and we have literally nothing in common –”

“Finn,” Poe interrupts, voice just a little on the harsh side. 

“– But I’m not a dick, and I’m genuinely sorry about what our friends did to you. Rey explained everything, and it sucks. Really. Which is why I’m going to tolerate you sitting with us for the time being. Just, cut out the crap, alright? No setting things on fire and getting the three of us here into trouble. Deal?” 

Rey and Poe swivel their heads round to look at Kylo. He fidgets with the sleeve of his jumper, pulled low over his hands even in the sweltering heat. Rey doesn’t expect the corner of his lip to twitch up into a smile – a genuine one. 

“Deal,” he agrees. 

Finn seems satisfied with this. He nods, and flops down on the grass to eat his lunch. The rest of them follow suit, assembling themselves into a small circle in the shade of the bleachers, sheltered from the afternoon sun. Kylo seems tense the whole time, picking at blades of grass instead of his food and avoiding most attempts at conversation that Poe offers. When the two of them leave halfway through lunch for Monday sports practise, Rey leans over and rests her head on her cousin’s shoulder. 

“This was a mistake,” Kylo says, sounding miserable. Rey turns her head to look up at him, “I’m sorry.” 

“Poe and Finn will warm up to you,” she tells him. She did, even if she does remember all the worst bits of Kylo’s childhood, breaking things and throwing far more tantrums than she thought necessary for a child who was no longer a toddler. 

He makes a noncommittal noise, picking at a few more blades of grass and scattering them. 

“Come over to our house tonight,” she suggests to lighten the mood, sitting up, “Dad won’t mind. I can – give you a makeover, or something.” 

He frowns, peering at her from under his mess of dark hair, “A what?” 

She shrugs. “It could be fun. You can dress me up too if you like. Please? It’ll be like when we were younger and you used to run around wearing that wedding dress costume that Wedge got me for Halloween –”

Kylo throws a handful of grass pickings at her, “You dick! We agreed never to bring that up again!” 

“It was cute!” she squeals, raising her arms to stop the grass from falling down the inside of her top. 

“Absolutely not.” He huffs, folding his arms tightly across his chest and doing his best to glare at her, despite the smile threatening to break out across his face. “I will come,” he concedes, finally, “But only on the condition that you let me complain as much as I want.”

Rey beams. “I can deal with that,” she says, then launches herself forwards to hug him, “This is going to be fun! We haven’t hung out together properly in ages,”

He laughs, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and resting his chin carefully on her head, avoiding the hair piled up into a bun on top, “You forced yourself into my room last week to play Pokémon,” he reminds her. 

“That was to cheer you up,” she says, into the fabric of his jumper, “Doesn’t count,”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"The footballer jerks won’t wanna mess with us. They’re too scared. What they don’t need to know is that we’re all the secret gays.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pfft. schedule? what schedule.

Kylo sends Han a brief text to let him know that he’s spending the evening at Luke’s house with Rey – to which his father responds with a selection of emojis. He doesn’t text Leia, because he’s being difficult and she can just _deal_ with that, and shoves his phone away in the back pocket of his jeans as he follows Rey out of the school building and along to the staff car park where they’re meeting Luke. 

On their way out, they pass Hux and Phasma, and Kylo feels guilty when he catches Hux’s gaze. He’s been avoiding them, because this is what he does – ruins things, for no good reason. He ducks his head when their eyes have been locked for a moment longer than what feels comfortable, and hopes that Hux knows he’s sorry. The rumours about Hux being gay too have been floating around ever since Kylo was outed, and in some way he feels at fault for that. None of it would have happened if he hadn’t been on that stupid app in the first place. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He ignores it, dreading who it might be. 

Seeming to notice his hesitation, Rey rolls her eyes and tucks her arm through the crook of his elbow, tugging him along. 

“C’mon, slowcoach,” she says, sounding far too cheerful, “It’ll be next year by the time we get home, at this rate. Dad’s waiting,” 

“Ugh,” Kylo says, without meaning. He lets his cousin pull him along and into the car, where his uncle is already waiting for them, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel along to the rhythm of whatever country music he’s listening to. 

“Hi guys,” he says, when Rey shuts the door, “Good day?” 

Kylo lets Rey chatter on about her day as they drive, watching the scenery pass by without speaking. It’s a longer drive to Luke’s house, past the edge of town and along a winding forest road canopied by ancient trees that tower above the few cars that pass through. It’s somewhere Kylo has loved visiting since he was small, appreciating the solitude that his uncle’s house offers. 

Half an hour later, they’re pulling up the drive of Luke’s house – an old stone built farm cottage that’s been in the village since the 19th century. It’s deceptively small looking at the front, but drops down two levels to the rear of the house and then opens out into a huge back garden where he keeps his own chickens and a pond full of fish. 

As soon as they’re inside, Rey dumps her bag and shoes by the front door and marches her cousin straight to her room. He has no choice but to follow, Luke watching on with badly concealed amusement. 

“So here’s the deal,” she says, rubbing her hands together as he sits on the mattress, folding his legs up underneath him to get comfortable. “We give you a makeover – ”

“You still haven’t said why this is necessary,” he interrupts. 

Rey glares at him. “I’m about to tell you. We give you a makeover. You’ll go from emo to dreamo, right? _Then_ in school you can pass off as my GBF and you’ll be untouchable. Especially when we hang out with Poe and Finn, because that way the footballer jerks won’t wanna mess with us. They’re too scared. What they don’t need to know is that we’re all the secret gays.” 

Kylo blinks slowly, brow creasing. “I…First of all, don’t ever say ‘emo to dreamo’ again,” he says, “Second of all, I _knew_ they were gay. I knew it. Thirdly –”

Rey heaves out a sigh and grabs onto his forearm, hauling him up and onto his feet, “Too much talking.” She chastises, “Not enough changing. I’ll let you wear black, but we’ll make it look cool.” 

“I already look cool!” he tries to protest as Rey starts rifling through her drawers, carelessly shoving bundles of clothes into his arms. 

She laughs. “That’s cute. Here, go to the bathroom and try some of these on. Let me see them all!” 

He’s shoved unceremoniously into the corridor before he even has a chance to get a word in. Rey beams at him, and he sighs in defeat, looking dubiously down at the pile of clothes in his arms as he makes his way along to the bathroom.

*** 

Kylo spins slowly, squinting at his reflection. “Huh,” he says. Rey watches him from the bed, chin pillowed on one knee.

“What does ‘huh’ mean?” she asks, “Is it huh good or huh terrible?” 

Kylo pouts, thoughtful, “I don’t actually know. Don’t I look a bit…gay?”

His cousin rolls her eyes skyward, “It’s called style, Ky,” she says, “Besides, you _are_ gay,”

“Right.” He turns sideways, continues to survey his reflection with painstaking attention to detail, “I’m amazed I fit into your jeans, actually,” 

Rey shrugs, “You have a great ass. Keep them – I never wear black anyway,”

“I guess they _are_ kind of flattering,” he agrees, somewhat hesitantly. 

She clap her hands together, “Great! Now, come sit and let me do your eyeliner,”

Kylo spins, “My – absolutely not. What do you know about makeup anyway? You never wear it, I don’t want to look like a raccoon,”

Rey beckons him closer with a kohl pencil, wielding it like a sword as he reluctantly settles down beside her on the duvet, “I’ve watched Jess doing it plenty of times,” she says, “It isn’t that hard,”

He mutters something in response, but it goes ignored as Rey angles his chin and promptly begins to attack his eyelids with the pencil, being none too gentle about it, either. He sits as patiently as he can, eye twitching under the onslaught, and by the time she’s done they’re watering. He blinks them clear when the pressure relents, and opens one slowly. 

“Finished?” he asks. 

Rey nods, capping the eyeliner and tossing it at her dresser. “Finished.” She agrees, spinning him back towards the mirror for a look.

He stares at himself for a long moment, turns sideways again to observe the jeans and one of Rey's dark red, oversized shirts that fits snugly over Kylo's broad shoulders. Even the eyeliner, peeking out at him from under his curtain of dark hair, looks good. There’s only one issue. 

"Rey," he says, scratching nervously at his arm, uncomfortably exposed all of a sudden, "I need a jacket, or something." 

She blinks at him, "Why," she starts to ask, but her eyes slide down, catch on his skin, littered with marks both old and new, and catches herself, "Oh. Yes, alright- don't think you're putting that ratty old hoodie back on though." 

"Hey!" 

"I think - one second," she darts out of the room, returning several minutes later with a dark denim jacket under her arm. She holds it up, squinting, "This should do the trick," she nods, pushing it into his arms, "It was dad's in, like, the eighties? Pretty cool, right. He doesn't wear it now though," 

Kylo slides it on over his shoulders, "What," he asks, "Does it not go with the hippy aesthetic?" 

She shakes her head sagely, missing the sarcasm, "No. Wedge says he used to be really stylish but now he just wears comfy stuff. I guess it’s better for teaching in or doing yoga. Hey, that jacket really pulls off your look!" 

"Really?" He raises an eyebrow, skeptical. His cousin nods enthusiastically at him in the reflection, beaming. He forces himself to smile back, and turns, "If you say so," he says, crossing back over to her and pulling her close under his arm for a hug, "You're the one who hangs out with all the fashionistas, after all," 

She snorts, hugging him back, "Poe _is_ kind of a style icon at Arkanis, isn't he?" she agrees, then pulls away to survey Kylo. "Come on," she says, hopping up to her feet and extending a hand, "Let’s go down for food, I'm famished," 

Kylo stands, “I guess that’s fair payment for the torture you put me through.” 

“Watch it,” she threatens, without heat.

*** 

"New look?" Uncle Luke says, glancing up from the wok as the two of them make their way into the kitchen. Kylo has no idea why his uncle is allowed to cook, considering the Skywalker's track record with fire, but he seems to do a pretty good job of it. Kylo wonders if there's something specific about school and bunsen burners.

"Something like that," he says, stealing a slice of carrot from the chopping board and sitting down at the island, Rey close behind him. 

"Kylo's getting bullied at school," Rey says apropos nothing, "So he's sitting with us. I gave him a makeover." 

He tries not to glare at her, because really it isn't her fault, but he'd rather it not broadcast to the world. Rey's used to telling her Dad everything - the complete opposite of Kylo. 

Luke pauses, glancing up at them, wooden spoon in hand. The vegetables sizzle quietly in the wok. 

"B-Kylo," He asks, swiftly correcting his slip. His voice is gentle, unbearably so, "Is that the case?" 

He cringes inwardly. "Uh. Yeah," 

"Is it because of Hux?" 

Kylo blinks. "I - what?" 

His uncle stirs the food around, "No? I noticed the two of you seemed to be avoiding each other. I wondered if something had happened,"

Kylo sighs. Hux. Those closest to him always get the worst of things, Hux more so than others. 

"No. Well, not really," he pauses, thinking he might as well tell Luke, because he might not be ready to tell his parents, but he _knows_ Luke will understand, "I got outed by some people in school." 

If his uncle is surprised or upset by the revelation, he doesn’t show it. "Do you want to talk about it?" 

Kylo feels a weight, small though it may be, lift from his shoulders. "No," he says, "Not really, but. Thank you." 

Luke nods, reaching over to turn the hob off, pulling the wok aside and setting it down with one hand. "Alright," he says, "If you change your mind, though, you know where I am.” 

The two cousins watch Luke moving around the kitchen, plating up food and tidying the dirty dishes into the sink to be washed later. Kylo isn’t as close to Luke as he always has been to Anakin or Obi Wan, but there’s no denying the comfort he feels in his uncle’s presence. 

He’s the exact opposite of his twin sister. Leia is a force to be reckoned with and everybody knows it – and though Kylo doesn’t doubt that Luke could be terrifying were you to rub him up the wrong way – in every way that matters, his youngest uncle is a calming presence and someone Kylo ultimately doesn’t mind being around, even if he does use the wrong name occasionally. He tries, and that has to count for something. 

Luke slides the plates of stir fry onto the dining table along with cutlery. He nods at the food, “Alright,” he says, “Eat up. I’ll be in the garden if either of you need me,” he ruffles Rey’s hair on his way past, and pauses to give a gentle, reassuring squeeze to Kylo’s shoulder. 

Rey turns to him as soon as they’re alone. “So I have idea.” She says, mouth full of noodles. Kylo raises his eyebrow at her, immediately suspicious. 

“Another one? Do I want to know?” he asks, twirling his fork. 

His cousin flashes him a toothy grin. “Absolutely.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honour of TLJ being released and me suffering once again, I'm back!!! Sorry for disappearing again for like 7 months I suck

When they’d made eye contact the previous day – just as Kylo was leaving school with Rey – Hux had felt like there was _something_. Progress, maybe. He knows that Kylo is scared. Knows that he probably wants to distance himself from Hux so as not to fan the rumours going around about the two of them, despite Phasma’s attempts to pin them as the least likely heterosexual couple in the entire school. But that doesn’t mean it hurts any less to feel Kylo’s absence like a massive, empty crater in his life, and he hates it. 

He almost feels like throwing up when he sees Kylo heading along the main corridor with Rey and her friends the next day – Poe is talking animatedly about something; his hands flying all over the place, while the other three listen with expressions of varying interest and amusement. The two girls that they sometimes hang out with are nowhere in sight, though that’s probably for the best, Hux thinks, being that they’re the very ones who ruined everything. 

Hux tries to tamp down the feeling of jealousy rising in his chest – after all, Kylo was gone for years, Hux knows he must have had plenty of different friends in that time. He doesn't _want_ to be jealous, not of Kylo's cousin, who elbows him in the side and says something with a laugh, not of Finn and Poe, who seem to have taken him under their wing in record time, despite the unspoken animosity between them in the past. He doesn't; but he is. 

Kylo looks like one of them now, too, and though he's retained something of his customary black, he's decked out in a pair of skinny jeans and a denim jacket - favourite ratty band hoodie nowhere to be seen. For the first time in his entire eighteen years of life, Kylo’s hair has been pulled back from his face, twisted into a low bun balanced artfully at the nape of his neck, and if Hux squints, he thinks Kylo might even be wearing eyeliner. 

Beside him, Phasma lets out a low whistle. Hux nearly jumps at the sound, pulled suddenly from his thoughts. 

" _Damn_." she says, "Kylo cleans up good. Who'd have thought?" 

Hux misses him so desperately that it hurts. "Yeah." he replies, lamely. He turns on his heel, nearly crashing right into her in his haste. “I’ve a free period.” He says, by way of explanation, as he heads for the doors, bag slung over his shoulder, “Are you coming?” 

It’s a much cooler day outside, and Hux thanks whatever deities might be listening for the change in temperature as he makes a beeline for the tree, where the breeze is cool and the shade is blissful. He’s comfortable in his lightweight jumper after he shrugs off the familiar weight of his coat, and grabs an apple from his school bag. 

Phasma’s only a few paces behind him. “So.” she says, dumping her school bag next to Hux on the bench. It’s a new one, he doesn’t remember seeing it before – a patent silver messenger bag, covered in a variety of ironic enamel pins – and it’s so completely Phasma that he isn’t an inch surprised by it. She sits down with a thud, and leans back on her palms, “Prom is like, three weeks away.”

Hux shoots her a blank look, apple in one hand, the other reaching into his bag to dig out a textbook. “Yes, it is.” He replies, slowly, with eyes narrowed in suspicion, “What is your point?”

At this, she rolls her eyes. “For someone so smart,” she tells him, “You can be a godawful idiot sometimes, you know? My _point_ ,” she continues, holding up a hand to silence his attempt to protest this, “Is that we can’t show up at prom alone, right?”

Hux takes another bite of his apple, and shoves the textbook away. “Phasma, where is this conversation going?” 

Her smile is positively angelic, and it doesn’t suit her one bit. Hux refrains from telling her so, even as she clasps her hands together beneath her chin like a picture postcard cherub, and flutters her lashes. “So I was thinking, since neither you nor I have dates –”

Hux feels his eyebrows knit together in a frown. “That’s a bit presumptuous.” He says, indignant. 

Phasma’s eyebrows raise. “ _Do_ you have a date?” 

He purses his lips. “No. But it was still presumptuous.” 

She gives him a look that’s both fond yet exasperated. “Right. Anyway, I was thinking we could just go together. Cause I don’t think Kylo’s gonna bother, he’s not exactly been…well. I don’t know if he’d want to come with us.” She tails off, fiddling with the bracelets on her arm. 

Hux digs his fingernails into his palms. It’s a habit he’s been trying to kick – it leaves red, crescent shaped welts in his skin, but it grounds him, makes him feel as though he has some semblance of control, even when the world feels like it’s crumbling right beneath his feet. He taps his foot against the edge of the bench, heel bumping against the rough wooden surface, one, two, three, four, one, two – 

“Hux?” 

He looks up to see Phasma’s concerned face. 

“Yes.” He says, the words coming out unintentionally clipped, “That’s – yes. Fine. Okay.”

She continues to frown at him, even when he scowls back. “Alright.” She says, sitting back and surveying him thoughtfully, “What am I missing here?” 

The apple crunches noisily as he takes another bite, standing up. “Absolutely nothing.” He says, and reaches for his bag. Phasma beats him to it, one hand grasping his forearm, her nails sharp even through the fabric. 

“Hux.” She says, levelly, “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on because I cannot deal with more drama right now, okay? Sit the fuck down.” 

“Please.” He says, looking somewhere over her shoulder, “Just. Give me some time to – I need to be somewhere.” 

He wrenches his arm from her grasp, and snatches his school bag up from the ground, throwing it hastily over his shoulder in his attempt to make a quick exit. 

“Hux! Where are you going?” Phasma yells after him, but he resolutely does not look back. 

Belatedly, he realises that he’s left his coat folded neatly on the bench beside her. He swears silently to himself, hoping that his pride won’t be damaged too much if he has to collect it from her later on in the day. He needs space right now, and he doesn’t think he can face her, not when his eyes have started to sting, unbidden, with tears.

*** 

When he gets to history, Kylo is already there, on time for once, even without Hux to keep his schedule in check. He glances up with a shy smile as Hux lingers in the doorway, staring, before he forces himself to start walking over to their table.

He sinks onto the chair, wordlessly spreading his books out in front of him. 

"Hey," Kylo says, voice soft. Hux looks up at him, hesitant. They sit in silence for a moment before Kylo clears his throat and glances down at his hands, where he's been fiddling with his pen. "I've missed you." he says, "I know I've been weird lately – well. I'm always fucking – look. I don't know how best to deal with what's been going on, and Luke thinks that I -" 

He's cut off by a girl from behind them hissing Kylo's name. They both turn to see Sola, the quarterback's current girlfriend and regular fiend, smiling at him. 

"So, I'm loving your style." she says, and Hux wants to scoff, because when has someone ever said that to Kylo, who regularly goes weeks without washing his hoodie, or shows up to school in jeans covered with paint or ink or burn marks from class.

"Thanks?" Kylo seems equally perplexed. 

"You're so welcome," she says, smile widening somehow, "I was wondering if you wanted to come shopping with me. You know - help me pick out some cute things. I've never been shopping with a gay guy before." 

Hux looks at her, then at Kylo. She can’t be serious, he thinks. 

“Uh.” Kylo says, and reaches up to scratch awkwardly at the back of his neck, “I’m good. Thanks.” 

She doesn’t seem deterred in the least, “Or maybe we could go for lattes. You like lattes, right? We could –” 

“Alright, class.” Mr Kenobi interrupts, standing from his desk at precisely the right moment, cutting off any further attempts at conversation. Kylo and Hux turn to face the front of the room again as he pulls something up on the projector and positions himself at the front of the room, “Please open textbooks to page two hundred and thirty, we’ll be reading from the chapter on the Weimar Republic this afternoon.” 

The routine of classwork is enough to ease some of the tension Hux feels weighing on him, and he quickly relaxes into the familiar sound of Mr Kenobi’s voice and pen scraping across paper. Kylo’s elbow bumps against his a couple of times – either by accident or from Kylo trying to attract his attention, but he keeps his head down, forcing himself to focus on his work instead. 

At the end of class, he packs his books away in record time, rising from his seat before Kylo has even closed his textbook over. He’s never wanted to escape a lesson so quickly, but the distance between him and Kylo feels greater, somehow – he feels like he misses him even more – when they’re sat right beside each other. He can’t stand it. Can’t stand how much everything has changed in such a short span of time, he’s well out of his comfort zone, and nothing he does is going to put things back the way they were before. 

The truth is staring him right in the face, and he can’t believe he hadn’t realised it sooner. Years ago, even, because surely it’s been that long. Hux knows he should apologise to Phasma for acting the way he had, because how was she to know if he’d only just realised it himself? 

He pauses at the door of the classroom to look back at Kylo, who isn’t even pretending that he’s not been staring after Hux as he makes his swift exit. His face is just as much of an open book as it always is, brows drawn tight into a frown. Hux forces himself to smile, though it’s brief, without any real depth, and steps out into the corridor, taking a deep breath as he does. 

He thinks about Phasma asking him to prom as friends, knowing it would be for the best all round. No one would give them a second look, his Father wouldn’t bat an eyelid. It could be fun, he _knows_ this – but it isn’t a coincidence that something had always felt missing in his life when Kylo moved away, nor that the delicate pieces of Hux’s life felt balanced again the moment Kylo sent him a message from halfway across the country saying that he was moving back again, moving home. 

Hux loves Phasma, she’s one of the best friends he could ever ask for, but she isn’t Kylo.

**Author's Note:**

> talk star wars to me @translkylo on tumblr
> 
> also theres an [ aesthetic post ](http://translkylo.tumblr.com/post/142529980848/translkylo-a-storm-youre-starting) floating around for this now


End file.
